Original Prankster
by Saranac
Summary: Buffy isn't about to forget how Spike played her and the Scoobies in taking down Adam but neither can she kill him. Alone for the summer she decides to show him that slayers can play games too. The Spuffy Cold War heats back up this summer as Slayer and Vampire wrestle for control the only way they can. Who will blink first? Post S4 with all spoilers in play.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the franchise's characters, places, etc. I am not making a profit from this work other than the joy I take in writing it.

Previously: Weeks have past since the fallout of the Initiative and the take down of Adam. The summertime hibernation of the hellmouth has begun with demon activity at a low. With the Scoobies vacationing elsewhere and Riley home for the summer the responsibility of baby sitting the graveyards once more rests with Buffy.

**FETUS**

"Not that I'm harshing or anything!"

The instep of Buffy's tennis shoe connected solidly with generic vampire number 105's face from a quick but nicely placed roundhouse kick. The powerful strike jerked the vamp's head sharply to the right and had him stumbling off balance. The pair had been at it for nearly five minutes and after that last blow it was clear that the demon would be needing a timeout. Not in any rush to head back home, the slayer broke her ready stance, placed both hands on her hips, and continued with her ranting in the hot June night.

"I get it, you know? I really do," she continued. "I'm the Slayer and my place is at the Hellmouth. The Chosen One for the Chosen Mouth – err – Chosen Place! God, how is that any better? Anyway! Xander, Willow, and Riley and the rest? It's not their destiny to spend night in and night out playing glorified vacuum cleaner."

"What?" the vampire mouthed when the stars circling his head finally cleared way to reveal a still very much amped up vampire slayer. "Uh, I'm sorry?"

"Oh?" Buffy blinked when she saw that the vampire was trying to show her some empathy. "Oh," she repeated and smiled, realizing she had an attentive listener. "That's sweet of you to say. I'm Buffy by the way, what's your name?"

"Peter," the vamp pleasantly replied and dropped his own guard to chat with his would-be executioner. "But I wasn't exactly the skinniest guy growing up. So since third grade I was called Porker."

"Aw," Buffy said, sincerely, and then shook her head. "Kids can be so cruel."

"Yeah," Peter nodded helplessly. "No offense but I can see how you might get some shit for 'Buffy.'"

"Oh don't get me started," Buffy groaned and then gave him a curious look. "You're still pretty new at this aren't you?"

"And pretty confused," Peter answered honestly. "I know I want to cut off your head and gorge on your blood but you're awfully nice."

"Thanks I appreciate that... A question though. You said you were new does that mean you haven't eaten anyone yet?" Buffy said carefully.

"Well no," Peter replied and then gestured to the far side of the cemetery. "I only just dug my way out and I'm pretty sure I'm a vampire. I am a vampire, right?"

"Yes," Buffy confirmed. "But you haven't bitten or eaten anyone?"

"No but what-"

Buffy's stake was a blur as it plunged into Peter's chest before exploding him into a cloud of dust, a look of confusion still drawn over his face. Buffy lowered her eyes and took a moment to look over the remains of the nice-guy vampire she had been chatting with.

"Because I don't want to remember you as a killer," Buffy whispered quietly to Peter's remains.

"Good show, luv," another voice intruded, unfortunately an all too familiar voice, that unsurprisingly was accompanied by the sound of a zippo lighter being snapped shut.

_And now my night is complete._

"How old is that thing?" Buffy said with a gesture to Spike's lighter.

"This thing?" Spike asked and waved the vintage silver lighter in his hand. "Picked it up in Nazi Germany during the forties."

"And do I want to hear the story behind it?" Buffy continued as she sheathed her stake in the back of her jean's waistband.

"Likely not," Spike smirked and began to prowl over to her with no small amount of swagger in his hips. His stalk resembled that of a panther sizing up a lonely and helpless gazelle. Luckily for her, she was far less a gazelle and more of a lioness. Bonus, according to last year's Discovery Channel marathon, a lion would kick a panther's ass.

_Or was it a cheetah? Wait, cheetahs are tiny. Ugh – whatever. Point is even his walk is disgusting._

"You're disgusting," Buffy retorted and turned away to continue the night's patrol elsewhere. She increased her gait to try and put as much distance as possible between her and Spike but the vampire's longer legs easily closed the distance. Moments later and she found herself walking step by step next to her once and future nemesis.

"Most dead bodies are," he said and when she turned her head to the right she picked up on the very condescending glimmer in his blue eyes and ghostly smile. "Including your friend back there, 'Peter Porker.'"

"Even more evidence to the jury," she snapped as harshly as possible and turned away from him once more, hoping that he would get the hint already. If he did, Spike never showed it – he never did. "Least he never killed anyone."

"He would have," Spike said in a very matter of fact voice. "Would have done you in if you weren't all juiced up on Chosen blood."

"And on to blood," Buffy made an eew-face as the pair exited through the cemetery's rusted iron gates. "That took what, seven seconds? Seriously, Spike, is that all you think about?" When out of the corner of her eyes she caught Spike's knowing leer, she shuddered and felt the sudden urge to vomit. "I walked right into that."

"Oh right," Spike smiled seductively. "Like you never got hot and heavy after a good slay."

"Conversation over," Buffy said firmly and decided to play the "ignore the blood-sucker game" until Spike grew bored and left.

"And there it is," he laughed. "Almost isn't a challenge anymore. So easy to get your knickers in a twist and those pouty lips to clam up like a cold fish."

"That it? Keep bringing it," Buffy gibed, unable to control her tongue. "Keep it up and we'll find out how much dust you'll leave behind. Given the size of your over compensating ego, I'm thinking less than an ash tray?"

"Maybe," Spike conceded. "Only one way to find out though and we both know the real reason why you aren't reaching for that stake just yet."

"Impotency?" Buffy snorted.

"Hardly," Spike and came to a stop next to a tree with his back leaning into it. Buffy had no intention of stopping and listening to whatever insane troll logic was behind Spike's thoughts. "Oh yeah there it is," he drawled. "That hot little body looks so delicious, you huffing away like that."

Almost no intention.

"You're a pig, Spike," Buffy shot back and turned around to face him as another thought occurred to her. "And you know what else? Don't think I forgot how you tried to kill me and my friends last month. Playing us against each other? You're not as harmless as you claim."

"Hello?" Spike retorted wryly and took a deep drag off of his cigarette. "Evil. My name is next to it in the bloody dictionary. You white hats are the ones who tried to paint me as toothless."

"A mistake I won't be making again," Buffy promised darkly. "Next time, Spike and-"

"And what?" he demanded.

"You know what."

"Yeah I do," Spike sighed as his tone changed from snarky to something else altogether. "C'mon, Slayer. You and I both know we aren't going to kill each other until that chip they stuck up there gets stuck elsewhere."

"No I don't know, Spike," Buffy said as her tone became colder. Her arms tightened across her chest as she held her glare on him. "If you really believed that, you would've warned me off about Adam." Seeing Spike shift his feet nervously, Buffy pressed home her point and this time it was her who closed the distance with each step emphasizing another accusation. "You would've tried to take me out the time you came back all pathetic over losing that ho-bag girlfriend. If you really meant that, you wouldn't have tried to take me out wearing that gem. You would've wanted some kind of fair or twisted honorable fight between us."

"That right?" Spike asked, her words quickly stirring up the vampire's ire. Pushing himself off the tree, he threw his unfinished cigarette to the ground and stalked closer and closer, meeting her halfway until the two enemies were bare inches apart. The scent of her coconut body wash filled his senses while the smell of leather and tobacco nearly overwhelmed her. Neither would give an inch. "Maybe I'll barricade you in? Set your house on fire, yea? Blow you away with my shotgun? Give me a headache but I'd still bury you six feet under. List goes on, Slayer." He saw her flinch and knew he had got to her. It wasn't anything she hadn't already considered but hearing him actually voice that he had similar thoughts did bring up a new perspective to their private little cold war. Would he really go nuclear? Would he take it to the next level?

"What's stopping you then?" Buffy said and even though she managed to say it a very calm measure of voice, Spike knew in that moment if he didn't give her a valid reason, she would stake him. Stake him and never look back. She knew that threat was always present but she had done her best to ignore up until then. But now it was out in the open and unless he provided a real reason why he was unwilling to resort to that sort of method? She was done taking chances.

"It's one thing to hand you to Adam," Spike said after a very long and tense moment had come and gone. "Or trying to do you in with that pretty rock on my finger. But you see, luv? Each of those times you at least had a fightin' chance. Either way, the day you do snuff it? Just know that ole' Spike here had some sort of role involved."

"I will kill you," Buffy threatened and this time she broke that other unspoken rule they had. She crossed those last few inches to press her body right up against him, nearly nose to nose. Normally Spike would have made some lewd comment but in that moment he considered the subject at hand more important than anything else. It was as sacred a vow that Spike would ever make and to soil it was the last thing on his mind. It also gave him some reflection and in that moment he had a real sense of clarity.

"Maybe," he said quietly and looked away from her, his fingers flexing – wishing he still had that cigarette to occupy himself. "Even if you don't though. If I'm the one who walks away?"

"What?" Buffy growled heatedly. It was only then did Spike realize where his thoughts had been blindly leading him. That if he was the one to walk away alive, undead in his case, he doubted he would ever be the same. He had never met anyone like this slayer before and doubted he would again, no matter how long he lived. It was a sobering thought and as Buffy watched the normally adept wordsmith struggle to find the right words to voice his thoughts, Spike's inner-dictionary came up blank. Frustrated, he scowled and gently pushed her back so as not to activate the chip. The nearness of her was clearly getting to him but as to why, Buffy didn't have the faintest of ideas. "Spike!"

"Doesn't really matter now does it, Summers? You'll be a corpse and I'll be back to slaughterin' and shaggin', happily I might add."

"What are you avoiding?" Buffy demanded.

"A very stake-worthy topic," Spike deflected. "This is somethin' I'd like to not talk about, you know? Save it for that day you and I do throw down."

Biting the inside of her cheek, Buffy turned away to consider both what Spike was saying and what he was not saying. She knew he wasn't going to kill her or her friends by something so unfitting as a house fire or gun. Even if the explanation he gave was found wanting, their past battles were evident enough that he would much prefer going at her with "fists and fangs" as he would phrase it. Anything else that might be said about it was beside the point and she found herself agreeing with his decision to table such a discussion until later. If there would be a later. Spike had made it pretty clear that he was willing to help another of her would be killers, such as the recent situation with Adam. If such an occasion arose again she resolved to stake him on the spot. Until then, she was willing to tolerate his presence. As aggravating as Spike could be some nights, any kind of familiar company was better than walking alone.

Casting a glance at him over her shoulder, it appeared that whatever that moment shared between them was had left Spike equally perturbed. But thankfully, given this uncharacteristic silence, he seemed just as inclined to live in denial-world as she was about what had transpired. Resuming her walk to the next cemetery, Buffy was not surprised when for the second time that night, Spike fell into step beside her. It was an interesting facet of their antagonistic relationship. She wasn't sure what else to label what they had but then maybe it was better not to think too much on it. That thought would also go into her denial-vault.

Continuing on in silence, they cleared cemetery after cemetery. For Buffy it was because of destiny. For Spike it was to get his rocks off by fighting something he could kill. Unfortunately it was summer. With the longer days and shorter nights, demon activity was at its low point, leaving her "destiny" seeming pretty redundant and Spike restless with unspent energy.

"Mates are out of town then," Spike said after nearly thirty minutes of quiet. Buffy imagined that that thirty minutes of silence was likely a record between the two. "Heard you talkin' about it back there with Porker."

"Willow and Tara are spending their summer at a coven," Buffy told him, seeing no reason to hold out. "Anya is dragging Xander all over the country. Not that she hadn't seen everything already but because she hadn't seen it with him. Pretty romantic actually."

"Yeah," Spike replied, his voice more subdued than from earlier. "Bit like me and Dru would do."

"You say so," Buffy shrugged and kicked the edge of a tombstone.

"Take it then that Soldier Boy is frolicking elsewhere too then," Spike hypothesized. Buffy didn't say anything but then she didn't have to. "And the Watcher?"

"Garage sale actually," Buffy said and a small smile touched her lips at the thought.

"Heh," Spike chuckled. "You must be cravin' the action then." It took Spike a total of five steps before he realized that he was walking alone and when he turned back he saw Buffy glaring at him. Going over what he just said Spike realized what she might have misinterpreted. "What? It's the truth."

"I don't crave slaying," Buffy said sharply. "I have lots of things to keep me occupied."

"Really?" Spike challenged.

"I have to clean the house for one," Buffy started, holding her head high much to Spike's chagrin. She opened her mouth to continue but quickly found herself at a loss for words as her mind came up empty.

"Wow," Spike drawled. "Knowin' how you go spick-and-span that would take an age and a half."

"First! I can spick-and-span with the best," Buffy sputtered much to Spike's amusement. "I'm the spick-and-span... spanner! Understand?"

"You're a cocker spaniel," Spike supplied helpfully.

"Exactly! Second, I don't need to justify myself to anyone – least of all you," Buffy finished confidently and fully under the belief she managed to wipe that annoying smirk off his face. Except of course when she did tilt her head to the right, that happy belief balloon was popped. Spike's smug look and teasing glint in his pretty blue eyes zeroed Buffy's satisfaction and doubled her frustration. At that moment she really wished he would just morph into his demonic vampire face. It was so much easier to deal with him like that.

_Give me a reason. Give me a reason to punch that nose. Give me a reason – since when did I start needing a reason?_

"So, you don't crave slaying but love getting' down and dirty with your mop?"

"I – what? No. No! I don't – not? No down and dirties! God, you are so-!"

"Slayable?" Spike offered in a voice suave thick with seduction and his eyebrows doing their talented charmer dance. Buffy only rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation.

"It's a break. That's what it is. From school and even from slaying. Slaying time off. From full-time to part-time vampire slayer. Break from apocalypses and the traditional monster of the week."

"Really?" Spike asked, clearly trying to fight from doubling over with laughter at her situation. She wanted nothing more than to deck him and walk back home. However the last few weeks devoid of friends and boyfriend had left her craving some company. Some enjoyable way to pass the time. Anything at all and if Spike was all she could manage, then so be it. At least until he made her want to throw him off a bridge, which was rapidly approaching.

"Movies," Buffy added when her brain at last gained some momentum. "And books!"

"My oh my, Slayer," Spike teased. "What a rollicking social life you have. How do you ever balance it all out?"

"Shut up, Spike," Buffy snapped but when that evil glint in his eye still shone brightly she decided it was time to fight fire with fire. "At least I have family and friends. What do you have? Harmony? Oh but wait – she left you too."

"Bugger that. Have you heard her yammer? Take my hand over that bleedin' PA system," Spike scoffed. Given her own experiences with the former classmate Buffy found herself in agreement with his assessment. Focusing his mind away from the 'PA system with fangs' Spike squinted his eyes as another thought occurred to him. "You are right about one thing. Has been a slow few weeks since that blowout with Adam-And-Pals. I never did spend a summer on the hellmouth before. Thankfully still got my soaps though and whatever demons I can scrap with."

Buffy bit her tongue and suppressed the urge to order him to lay off the demons as she needed any action she could get. Unfortunately her denials about "craving slaying" were still questionable and the last thing she wanted was to hand Spike more ammo to use against her. Not because he would criticize her for it. Aside from Faith no one would understand that craving better. That doesn't mean she was okay with him using it as something to crow about when her friends returned.

_Plus the idea of Spike and Faith together? Very wig-worthy._

"I know how to have fun, Spike," Buffy reiterated in a tone that signaled their back and forth over her fun-life was closed. Unfortunately Spike never cared about tones. Buffy clenched her fists and decided to do what Giles suggested: close her eyes and count to ten.

_One..._

"Books, movies, and the occasional slay?"

_Two..._

"Stay away from the elderly homes, pet. Don't want to overdo it!"

_Three – four – five..._

Spike couldn't hold it back any longer and howled with laughter.

_TEN!_

"That's so pathetic it's – OW! Bloody 'ell! Why the nose? Always the nose with you!"

"Stay away from me, Spike," Buffy warned, flexing her knuckles from the hard right cross she had landed squarely. "Otherwise you'll find out just how much 'fun' I can have."

"Ooh," Spike taunted despite the pain he felt. Pinching his nose to staunch the blood flow his voice did come off more than a little strained and very nasal, something that pleased her immensely. "Please, you wouldn't know fun if it was spelled out in front of you. Also, and this is off topic, can I borrow your washer for some laundry. That time of month for me."

"What time of whose month?" Buffy asked, her eyes going wide at that particularly worded phrase from his mouth.

"Clothing, pet," Spike said slowly, speaking as if she were a child. A very slow child. "Gettin' tired of breaking into the laundromat."

"Breaking in-? It's open 24 hours a day!"

"I know," Spike whined. "No challenge."

"Stay out of my house, Spike," Buffy growled. She saw his mouth begin to open and decided enough was enough. Slaying alone was better than this. She readied her right leg, her eyes focusing on the perfect target.

"You – BLOODY HELL!"

"What did you expect? You didn't want it in the nose," Buffy said snidely, watching Spike fall to the ground and curl up into a near fetal position. The vampire groaned in writhing pain as he gingerly felt his groin, making sure that both jewels were still safely intact.

"Not fair," he mumbled.

"Hmm," Buffy mused and knelt down next to him. "Know what else? Wasn't nice what you said to my friend Peter. But 'Porker' is hardly something to smile about. No I think 'Fetus' is much – much more original. And looking at you now? Very appropriate."

"Bitch," Spike muttered between coughs of pain. Buffy turned to walk the other way but despite his gasps Spike's chuckles followed after her – wheezing chuckles. "That the best you got, Slayer? No wonder you're alone."

She didn't turn. She didn't say anything back. She kept walking because even though he was the one on the ground Buffy knew that he would be the one smiling when he went to bed that night.

With one more cemetery to go Buffy quickened her pace, eager to get tonight's patrol over with and hopefully not see his mind-blowing face for at least another week.

_Mind-blowing?_

Buffy stopped mid-step and frowned at that particular turn of phrase.

"Even when he's nowhere in sight," she muttered and continued her way to the last cemetery.

_Stupid... Smug... UNBELIEVABLY ANNOYING..._

* * *

"Self-obsessed! 80's reject! Pompous know-it-all!"

For Rupert Giles the soundtrack to Rocky 4 wasn't something he would normally associate with pain but after today he wondered if he would ever be able to listen to the soundtrack or even watch the Rocky movies without wincing.

"Stupid vampire," Buffy spat as she jabbed at the two focus pads he held out for her. "Bloody this and bloody that."

"Uh? Buffy-"

"I can have fun," she ranted. "Lots of fun. I'm a funnosaurus rex!That stupid... Fetus!"

"Fetus?" Giles questioned, momentarily surprised at the latest nickname until her next punch landed. Buffy knew she was supposed to go at only half-strength, or tenth-strength, but Giles had the feeling his charge was lacking her normal focus this afternoon. Given the subject of her rant he was fairly certain as to why or rather who.

"He thinks he knows me so well," Buffy continued waspishly. "Knows all the bloody chinks in my bloody armor!"

"Spike? Wait Buffy-" Giles tried to say only instead to nearly cry from his slayer's continued onslaught.

"No!" Buffy snapped and wailed so hard on the next punch Giles' felt his hand nearly break, despite the protection of the padding. "His name is Fetus now!"

"What are you – OW! Good Lord, Buffy!" Giles shrieked and pulled the pads away from her. Shrugging them off his wrists he tenderly felt his swelling hands that would undoubtedly be bruised over come tomorrow.

"Huh? Oh my God," Buffy whispered. "Oh my God! Giles," Buffy said again as he face became horrified at the damage she had done to him. "I'm so sorry!"

"Bloody hell," her watcher grumbled but when he saw her wide eyes and trembling lips Giles immediately pushed the throbbing pain aside and held up his hand to reassure her.

"Giles?" Buffy whispered.

"I'm – I'm," Giles coughed between the excruciating waves of agony. Still he kept up a brave face to calm his surrogate daughter. "Not to fear, Buffy. I'm quite all right."

"No you're not," Buffy cried and moved forward to cup his hands in hers. The were only beginning to swell but already his hands nearly dwarfed her own in comparison. "Giles, I'm so sorry! I never meant to hurt you like this."

"Oh I know, Dear," he smiled behind gritted teeth. "And please worries aside they will be quite fine. Just let us remember next time a tenth-strength... or maybe twentieth?"

"I think the next time after I run into Spike I'll take it out on the bag first," Buffy said resolutely, still cradling his injured hands in hers.

"A sound decision," Giles agreed. Leaving the focus pads behind his slayer gently took him back inside her house and sat him down in the kitchen. Ten minutes later and Giles was resting his aching hands on two large packs of ice. Buffy, much to Giles' own aggravation, had gone back to not only droning on about her frustrations but pacing so hurriedly he felt he might go dizzy from her antics. There were very few people who could get under his slayer's skin like that vampire, and thankfully so. Truthfully, given Spike's bothersome nature, Giles found himself surprised he had lasted as long as he had.

"Okay! So maybe being alone for the entire summer sucks but come on? It isn't like I don't want them to go out and enjoy themselves! It's summer vacation and Riley hasn't seen his family in so long! Just everything is so boring and frustrating here without them and-and-and-and-"

"Monotonous?" Giles offered.

"Mono?" Buffy frowned. "The kissing disease?"

"No. Monotonous," he clarified. "Boring and staying the same."

"Oh," Buffy said and ran her hand through the back of her hair, neatly kept in a pony-tail. "Mononus."

"Monot – never mind. Well it certainly sounds as if he is becoming more of a hindrance than a benign fixture."

"I know what you're thinking," Buffy sighed and took the chair next to his. Looking at the tiled floor, downtrodden, she continued, "I can't stake him. It wouldn't be right."

"Well what did he say exactly?"

"Oh you know," Buffy rolled her eyes at the thought before speaking in her best cockney imitation. "Blah, blah ,blah. Bloody this and bloody that. Blah, blah Pet and luv and bloody this and bugger that. Blah!"

"Uh," Giles hesitated. "I was hoping for more substance?"

"He kept going on about me! Like he knows me so well! Saying that I'm bored. I don't have fun. That right now the only thing I have to look forward to is slaying."

"Well," Giles tried, picking his words carefully. "I don't see how such remarks would get to you. Well that is unless they hold some grains of truth?" When she only continued to stare at the floor with a forlorn look across her face Giles realized just how accurate Spike's estimations were. "Buffy-"

"Except he does knows me," Buffy shuddered before he could start reassuring her. "Why is it that the one guy who gets this part of me is the person I despise most?"

"Well? He is one of your most notorious foes. And I think it is fair to say no vampire knows more about slayers. To say he knows you though is quite another accusation."

"I wear this armor. I try so hard to keep people like him from seeing through me. But, Giles? He always does."

"Buffy-"

"And I'll never say this to anyone else but the other thing? About me looking forward to my patrols? Looking forward to killing? He was right about that. I try to hide it – bury it. Push my patrols off like some sort of chore. Killing vampires and demons as something I don't have a choice in. I'm in this empty space though, Giles. No one else to focus on but the kill and it's clearer than ever. And with the way this summer is going I think now more than ever I feel what it's like to be a slayer. Alone. No friends. No support. If an apocalypse happened right now I don't know what I would do."

"I do," Giles said and went to place a hand on her shoulder but when a flare of pain shot through his fingers he pulled back. As heartfelt the notion was he rethought it and returned to nursing his hand with the icepack. "You would handle it like you always do," he continued, undaunted. "You would face the evil and you would not falter. There was never a challenge you couldn't overcome. And yes while there would be some difficulties without your support network it would hardly be the first time you were alone and not only survived but flourished."

"Me," Buffy said wistfully. At Giles' confused look she continued. "When Angel – when Angelus had me cornered I was alone. His sword to my throat and asked me what I had left." Giles saw what Buffy was getting at. She never told him the full details of what had occurred after his rescue at the mansion, citing it too painful to talk about. "And I did what I had to," she finished and finally looked away from the floor and turned her eyes to his waiting eyes. "Thanks, Giles. For listening to my crazy rah-rah ranting."

"Of course, Dear," Giles said. "And while it isn't often I make the rounds, should you wish for some more friendly company I would be happy to provide a more welcoming companionship."

"Thanks," Buffy smiled happily and leaned over to give him a warm hug. "I needed to hear that and don't worry about Spike. I know how to handle him."

"Oh?" Giles asked, curious as to the story behind that.

"I kicked him in the balls."

"Oh," Giles frowned and closed his eyes at the thought. "Uh, how hard exactly?"

"Half-strength. He went fetal. Pretty sure he got home before sunrise."

"Yes well," Giles stuttered and wave of sympathy washed over him despite the animosity he felt towards the normally loathsome demon.

_Tenth-strength for me with the focus pads and tomorrow my hands will be black and blue. Half-strength to Spike's unprotected nether region? Dear Lord, how is he still walking?_

"Don't know don't care," Buffy shrugged and Giles realized he had said the last part out loud. "Angelus had it worst. He pissed me off and I let him have it all."

"Remind me to start wearing a cup," Giles joked. Taking a moment he compared the two and found he felt no sympathy whatsoever for Angel's alter ego. Spike however, despite the trouble he had caused them over the years the idea of a slayer-powered kick to that very sensitive area left the Englishman feeling a slight twinge of sympathy for his countryman. "And you're right," Giles determined, focusing on the welfare of his charge instead of two mass murderers. "You know how to handle him, more so than anyone, I would wager. As much as he seems to know you, I dare say you may know him even better."

At those words Giles watched Buffy suddenly grow pensive. After a minute of comfortable silence he was about to ask her whatever had crossed her mind but Buffy beat him to it.

"You're right," Buffy concluded. "I do know him. I can't kill him and clearly violence isn't having enough effects. Not as much as I would like."

"Buffy?"

"Giles," Buffy said slowly as a most wicked smile fell its way onto her. "You still selling that polaroid camera?"

* * *

"Finally," Spike grumbled when Buffy closed her front door and skipped down the steps with an eager grin on her face. A frown sprouted onto Spike's face when to his surprise he saw her pull out a walkman with and inserted a tape to listen along to.

_Score one for you, Slayer._

He was far enough back and just on the periphery of her senses so that she wouldn't feel his presence. Despite his distance, he could still pick out the seemingly bubbly-Buffy as she fixed one of the two ear buds into her right ear. Leaving her left ear open so as to hear any demon's approach, she continued to skip out of her front yard and down the sidewalk towards the nearest cemetery. After all this time spent with her, Spike knew the exact route she would take that night and also knew that he would have roughly two hours to get in, do his business, and get out before she returned. As for the slayer's mum? Tonight Joyce was in LA ,so he would have the Summers household all to himself.

Still, she seemed awfully sunny about something. Maybe it was because she'd found something to keep her mind busy while slaying. She'd finally caved in to at least have some audible entertainment on the slower summer nights. Spike approved and made a note to ridicule the slayer about her selection of tunes next time he interrupted her patrol. The coast clear, Spike hefted his bag of laundry over his shoulder and quickly made his way into the house, wincing as he did so. It had been five days since his run in with her that had left him limping back to his crypt. As much as he complained about her punches to the nose, they were nothing in comparison to that below the belt shot she'd taken. They were mortal enemies. They were supposed to show each other at least a modicum of respect. He wasn't about to stroll up to her and give her a titty-twister!

_Although seeing the expression on her face might be worth a gamble with my unlife._

Climbing up the steps to her porch, Spike made a second mental note to remind her of who he was and why she should show him the respect he deserves. He wouldn't be toothless forever. Feeling the doorknob, Spike wasn't surprised to find the door locked, not that it mattered. Months ago he had borrowed (without asking) her spare key and made himself a copy before stealthily returning it. Since then, he had been sneaking in every few weeks to do his laundry and any other necessities when the two were out. Until he finished renovating his crypt and finding himself a reliable water source, Spike was breaking into Buffy's house whenever chance allowed.

The lights were off but that hardly mattered to the vampire and he shifted into game-face to keep his night vision sharp. Wasting no time, Spike found his way to the basement door and descended the stairs. Finding the washing machine empty, he loaded his black on black shirts and jeans as well as his black and red button downs before adding in the detergent and closing the machine's lid. Dropping the empty clothing sack behind him, Spike left the basement and headed to the kitchen sink, a box of blonde hair dye in his hand.

Two hours or so. More than enough time to get in and out. He grinned devilishly at the expression Buffy would have on her face if only she knew that her arch-foe had been breaking into her home on a monthly basis to take care of his clothes and grooming. He had ever so subtly alluded to it the other night but that was more a parting shot to see what kind of reaction the idea would draw from her. With evil glee, Spike had not been disappointed. He knew she would never agree to such a proposal. Witnessing the look on her face and knowing he had been doing it despite that? It only made the evil that much more appetizing.

Washing his hair in the sink Spike then began to work the home brewed Sweet'N Low dye mixture into his hair but hissed when it stung his scalp. It wasn't that it hurt so much as it was unexpected. He always added the artificial sweetener to tone down skin irritation. He made a third mental note to add more sweetener to the mix next time.

Spike didn't have a mirror but after decades of practice, he was well versed in the process. So preoccupied with his work that he didn't feel the other presence creeping outside in the yard before climbing up into a certain tree and ducking into Buffy's open bedroom window. The dye set, Spike rinsed his hands and tucked his hair under a shower cap. Shifting his face to its normal human guise Spike lazily stretched out his muscular shoulders and arms as he made his way into the living room and turned on the TV. Clad in only a pair of black jeans Spike leisurely laid his legs and feet out onto the coffee table and switched the channel to some standup comedy act. Thinking himself completely alone, Spike became so absorbed in the program that he never noticed the dark shadow slip down the stairs and edge near the room's light switch.

It wasn't until a bright flash bulb exploded did he realize the error of his ways.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

At that moment Buffy flipped on the light switch and Spike was greeted to the sight of a happily grinning vampire slayer. He expected shouting. He expected enhanced interrogation threats with pointy wood. He expected multiple punches to the nose and a fever pitch out her door. Or worse! Another kick to the pisser.

_Got to start wearin' a bloody cup!_

However Buffy's expression of not only mirth but actual evil glimmering was more chilling than any attack she could launch against him. It set him very much on edge. He didn't like the look of this at all.

"Aw," Buffy whined and studied the polaroid picture that popped out of the camera. "Stupid dark. Didn't come out that well."

"Buffy?" Spike gawked, truly speechless.

"Oh look," she said and then snapped off another picture of the coveted shirtless Spike. A shirtless but also astonished and speechless Spike wearing only jeans and a shower cap. Retrieving the next picture she studied it and smiled happily. "Much better..."

"You – you – you!"

"What?" Buffy said ever so sweetly with her lips stretched into a wicked grin. "You really think I would forget that throw-away line about washing your clothes in my basement? You think I wouldn't figure out that you would sneak in on the one night both me and my mom were out?"

"You knew!" Spike shrieked. "All this time?"

"Of course I – wait, all this time?" Buffy frowned and then it was her turn to look surprised, albeit briefly. "You've done this before?"

"How'd you sneak in?" Spike demanded, choosing to ignore what now both knew to be a self-explaining question.

"Hello?" Buffy rolled her eyes. "Years of sneaking in and out to dust vamps with an unknowing mom in the house. Believe me when I say I know all the ins and outs of sneaking into my own house, Spike."

"You... you let me sneak in?" Spike said as the truth was finally beginning to hit home.

"Again with the duh," Buffy smirked. "I figured everything out days ago, bleach-boy."

"Days ago?"

"Yup," Buffy grinned. "Lots of time to make my own evil plans and prepare."

"Prepare?"

"Do you really think I would stop at taking pictures?"

"Mother fu-"

"Bleach," Buffy winked as her smirk grew even larger. "Bleach-boy."

"You wouldn't!"

Buffy's clicking the camera of another picture was all the answer he needed.

"I think I'll call this one: 'You can't handle the truth!'"

"No-No-No-No!" Spike cried before leaping from the couch and racing to the basement with the sound of Buffy's own evil laugh echoing after him. Later on he would come to realize that her laugh was as evil as any other villain he had met. Most likely from all the times of listening to her enemies' evil plans. Coming to a halt before the washer Spike closed his eyes and took a deep breath to gather his nerves. Bracing himself he opened the washer and waited until the machine cut off. His eyes peeking open to to see his worst fears realized.

"Yeah," Buffy drawled playfully behind him. "Switched out the detergent with bleach."

Lifting up his favorite button down red shirt Spike found that it now resembled a flamboyant pink monstrosity. Tightly clutching its lapels he turned around and Buffy bared witness a face paler than ever before, which only meant one thing. Another picture was taken to the sound of Buffy's maniacal heckles of evil. Throwing the ruined shirt to the basement floor Spike returned his attention to the washing machine and one by one he inspected every shirt and pair of pants, counting his losses. The damage was total with every one showing devastating collateral damage from the slayer's diabolical prank. His entire wardrobe. Every article of clothing that Spike examined prompted a click of her camera accompanied by a very mocking laugh.

"You..." Spike realized, his face a sheet of white. His body trembling in horror that Buffy had managed to pull something so grand over on him. "You?"

"You're not the only one who knows his enemies," Buffy chided. "Hmm... maybe this one can be called 'Big Bad 'Fraidy Cat?'"

"I'm gonna – I'm gonna!" Spike snarled and started to close in on her, fists clenched. Readying herself Buffy prepared to bolt. Even with the chip, in his state of mind she wouldn't put anything past the vampire, a master vampire at that. He did descend from the master's line after all. Still she did have one more card to play before the real fireworks began.

"Like I said, Spike," Buffy taunted. "I had days to prepare. Days to sneak into your crypt. Days to find that lovely box of hair dye you keep hidden away."

_It did burn somethin' fierce, mate. But the Slayer? Miss Self-Righteous? She wouldn't!_

"You wouldn't," Spike's face fell and turned a ghastly shade of white more so than the one mere seconds ago. More so than Buffy had ever seen ever on a vampire. She didn't think they could get that pale. It was a picture to remember.

"Oh, Spikey," Buffy smiled and gently patted the hollow of his cheek with her palm. "After all our time together? Believe me when I say that you have provided me with plenty of motive."

Horrified wasn't a strong enough word. Spike didn't know if there would ever be a strong enough word as he backpedaled several steps and ripped the shower cap off his head and tugged a small tuft of his hair into his palm. Squeezing a pinch of the dye into his hand Spike's eyes bulged at the hot pink color leftover.

Another flashbulb exploded. Actually five exploded as Buffy mercilessly captured the results of her handiwork. Fingering one of the pictures she threw it like she would a dicus to Spike's feet. Leaning down Spike picked it up and after the moments of shock wore off he went from trembling in horror to trembling in a murderous rage. The slayer had bent his last straw and he was going mental.

"Hot pink?" he snarled at the sight of every stray of hair dyed in what he considered to be chip-pain justified color. A color he would kill her over. "Hot pink?"

"I think it's an improvement," Buffy replied as she stared at one of the other pictures she had taken of his hair in that state. "Yup! So an improvement. Besides how long have you been bleaching? The industrial revolution? Only Billy Idol wasn't around back then..."

"You're dead, Slayer."

"Actually," Buffy giggled and began to make her way up the stairs and away from what was now a very traumatized but still pissed off vampire. "Technically you're the dead one."

"Break your bones," Spike began and dropped the picture to the ground. His eyes laser-locked onto the woman before him the vampire stalked forward as Buffy carefully backed further up and further up the staircase. "Break your bones... Tear out your intestines... Choke you with 'em... Choke you to an inch of your life... And THEN I'll break out the railroad spikes!"

"Have to catch me first... Willy," Buffy added, completely unaware as to the impact that name would have on the crazed vampire.

Spike's arms began to wave uncontrollably in all directions. His face a visage of snarling and grotesque expressions promising her bloody vengeance. Frothing at the lips he looked as if he were having a seizure as his fingers flexed and stretched. If Spike had claws, Buffy was sure they would be elongated and reaching out to tear her apart. However the fangs glaring from his mouth when Spike morphed into his demon were more than enough. She had never seen Spike more furious. Never more vicious. The transformation from terror to rage looked more like when Oz would transform into his bestial nature. Transforming into a werewolf. In this moment, Spike was more than murderous. He was insane. He clawed at his chest and Buffy knew that if he was wearing a shirt he'd be tearing it off. That thought seemed to occur to him also because when he looked back at his pile of trashed clothes, that uncontrollable rage vanished to be replaced by a look she hadn't seen in Spike's eyes in a long time. The look of a cold blooded killer committed to destroying everything about her.

"Run."

Buffy had come prepared with not only a camera but a pair of stakes, a bottle of holy water, and a cross around her neck. On top of all that, Spike was of course chipped and anything he tried would fry his brain. At the moment though none of that seemed to matter as Buffy began to run as hard and fast as her legs could pump out. Racing through the house, she made it out the front door with Spike hot on her heels. She slammed the front door shut, believing that would gain her at least a few extra precious moments as he dealt with the obstacle. The sound of glass breaking behind her told otherwise as Spike barreled through the living room picture window and landed on his feet without missing a step. She made a note to make him pay for cost of the window repairs.

"GET BACK HERE!"

Buffy's feet dashed across the pavement, trying to put as much distance between her and the homicidal demon as possible. It wasn't so much that she was scared to face him. Truthfully, she was fully confident that she could take him on in such a manic state. The insane rage would leave him wide open against a calmer and collected fighter. That didn't mean he wouldn't rip her own clothes off in the process or break her bones or something equally injuring. She had never before seen him so pissed and could only hope that running in circles around the whole of Sunnydale would eventually wear him down. But betting on hope alone wasn't that reassuring, given who she was facing. Buffy knew going in that he would be pissed but she never thought this would drive him over the edge, thus an exit strategy was something she had unfortunately overlooked.

Street after street the uncanny pair sprinted past. Buffy was holding her own but she couldn't outrun him forever. That was one of many things that sucked about being human. She needed to breathe. Vampires didn't. That didn't mean she wasn't resourceful or wasn't without options herself. She just needed to act before he got a hold on her. Changing direction she ran down a different street that led them into another residential area. Up ahead she saw the place she was looking for and burned her last remaining drops of adrenaline into that final bend.

Relieved to see that both cars were out and the house darkened Buffy reached the front door, broke the lock, and rushed inside to the safety Willow's parents' house. Collapsing just inside the threshold, Buffy was on hands and knees gasping for breath. It wasn't so much that she couldn't run that far. As far as she knew she could run a marathon at a respectable pace. However when it came to running at an all out sprint over five miles? Even slayers had their limits.

"GET OUT HERE!" Spike yelled angrily. Looking over her shoulder Buffy grinned pleasurably as Spike unsuccessfully charged into the wide open doorway repeatedly only to be repelled backwards each time due to the no-invite rule. "I'M GONNA KILL YOU!"

Buffy's only response was to take out the polaroid and snap another picture. She would scan the photos later and upload them to the internet. She had an inkling that Willow and Tara would enjoy it at least half as much she was right now. The sight of Spike throwing himself again and again at the invisible barrier only made her laugh harder. Still his growls and snarls were wearing on her. Leaning back on the floor of the foyer, her elbows planted firmly, she looked at him as innocently as Buffy knew how, which only enraged him further. When she took out her iPod and placed both buds in her ears, drowning his shouts out entirely, a moment passed when she asked herself if vampires could actually spontaneously combust. Oddly enough, the idea of Spike dusting didn't thrill her as much as before. As the vampire finally began to wear himself out, Buffy realized something.

She was crying. Crying and bawling with laughter. She hadn't been this happy all summer.

* * *

A few days after the her prank on Spike, Buffy sat alone in her bedroom painting her nails. She had been at it for some time now and after brushing away the last dab she looked down at her work. The results left her smiling. She let her thoughts roam free and they wandered and wandered until eventually focusing on Spike and "that night" as she had come to refer to it. She imagined that Spike most likely had a different name for it. Her mother also for that matter. Her mom hadn't been pleased when she came home to find the living room window shattered and its frame in pieces. Buffy hadn't even known where to begin but had been granted a short reprieve when her mother had told her that it was late and they would discuss the matter in the morning.

Between the threat of motherly retribution and the hilarity of pink-haired Spike repeatedly throwing himself against an invisible barrier, Buffy hadn't got much sleep. The following morning she had slept in late before she managed to rouse herself and after climbing out of bed she'd looked to her window and noticed a green duffel bag hanging on the tree limb outside. Confused at first, she'd opened her window and carefully looked it over. Granted she was still only just waking but given the bag's wear and tear and the location it had been left in, she'd been fairly certain she knew who had left it there for her to find. Only question was, what for?

She'd reached out to grab it and carried it in. Setting it down on her bedroom floor, she'd been a little wary but then she'd recalled Spike's words to her one week before – the night when she gave him that unkind below the belt kick. Whatever happened between them he wanted it to be special. Their supposed final duel to the death. Perhaps even honorable or whatever the delusional vampire thought would pass for that. Somehow, instinctually, Buffy had known that whatever Spike was currently planning as pay back wouldn't come so soon as the morning after, much less in the duffel sitting on her bedroom floor. Tired of the anticipation and anxious to get going, Buffy had opened its flap and found to her surprise, a wad of rolled up cash. When she'd counted it, she'd found that it came to just over seven hundred dollars.

The expression of jaw hitting the floor was very much applicable in that moment. Buffy had figured that she would have to beat it out of him or use the photos she had taken as blackmail. Not that she hadn't already decided to share them. Before the day was over she would upload one of the pictures to her private smilebook page. It was the final piece in her master plan to get Spike back after everything he had pulled.

The Scoobies would be let in on it in full, there was no escaping that. However it was the threat of sharing those photos with the demon underworld she had decided to bait him with. It was one thing to show her friends but it was quite another to ruin Spike's reputation further. The chip was bad enough as it is. That had been Buffy's plan – until she found seven hundred dollars hanging outside her window.

There had been no message with the money in the duffel, just the money, and it had taken a while for Buffy to figure out why he had dished out that much cash so quickly. It wasn't until she'd seen the relieved look on her mom's face when Buffy had handed her the money that she'd realized why. He hadn't been giving the slayer the money, he had been giving it to her mother. It was something that had left Buffy very much perplexed. It was also currently occupying her mind when the house phone rang and she ran to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Slayer..."

"Oh," Buffy grinned cheekily. "I was wondering when I would get this call." Buffy frowned. "Actually, no I wasn't. You're calling me on the phone?"

"Well yeah," Spike answered, his tone dropping the evil threatening thing and returning to the more familiar annoying tense. "What? Demons can't use phones?"

"I just never expected you to call me on one," Buffy replied.

"Well what did you expect? Soddin' smoke signals?"

"Ambushing me on patrol more likely," Buffy said dryly and then a sudden thought occurred to her as to why he wasn't making this appearance in person. "Wait... Is your hair still pink?"

"It's takin' a bit," Spike ruefully admitted. "Kind of strawberry blonde at the moment. Needs more bleach." Buffy could almost hear the clenching of Spike's jaw muscles. It only made her giggling double. "So happy you're enjoyin' yourself, Slayer."

"Well," Buffy grinned. "You can expect similar reactions from the others when they get back."

"Damn it, Slayer," Spike groaned miserably. "What the 'ell?"

"What? You really thought I wouldn't share my bounty?"

"Call it wishful thinkin', I suppose."

"Yeah right," Buffy said with a roll of her eyes.

"Don't know why you're so flip, luv. You do realize this is only the beginning."

The laughter stopped.

"What are you saying, Spike?"

"You really think I'm not goin' to retaliate? Don't tell me you forget who you're dealing with?"

Buffy steeled her resolve. "You really want to go this road?"

"Well what the hell did you expect?"

_Wishful thinking?_

"Mom's still pissed about the window," Buffy said, deciding to sidestep the question. "The money goes a long way though."

"I want the change," Spike demanded.

"Pfft," Buffy scoffed. "Consider what's left over as payment for emotional damages."

"Emotional damages? You ruined my clothes and dyed me pink, you bloody bitch!"

"Fine then," Buffy grinned. "I'll hand you back whatever is leftover from the window repairs if you don't retaliate."

"Sod it," Spike grumbled. "Fine, Slayer. Just drop the backpack with change near my crypt when all is accounted."

_What?_

"Wait, are you lying?"

"Evil, pet. What the hell do you think?" Spike replied. "Oi! You owe me an entire wardrobe though."

"Please," Buffy rolled her eyes. "Black tees and black jeans? Not like I torched your leather."

"My duster is off limits!" Spike shouted loudly enough that Buffy had to pull the phone away from her ear.

"Oh so there are rules now?" Buffy said dubiously. "Okay then, my turn. No killing anyone. Oh! And no destroying my clothes. Oh! And you keep your fangs out of Mister Gordo!"

"The stupid pig?"

"He is not stupid! But not the point; we are talking bounds of reason, Spike," she settled. "Otherwise consider your invite revoked."

"Bounds of reason? You made my hair pink and bleached my clothes!"

"Not your zippo," Buffy reminded. "Or your duster. Or your TV. Nothing that you can't replace – or steal for that matter."

"And what the 'ell is that supposed to mean?"

"Like you don't shoplift," Buffy scoffed sarcastically. "If I hand you a hundred dollars you'll just spend it on blood and whiskey."

"You suck, Slayer."

"Tell you what," Buffy decided. "I let you use my washer and dryer once a month – supervised – and we'll call it even."

"Okay. For my clothes the washer and dryer. But you better not think I'm not gunning for yah. Fair warning this war is far from over, Slayer."

"Know something, Fetus? I wouldn't have it any other way."

Before he could bite off another threat, Buffy hung up. She found a chair, sat down and took a moment to roll over what he had said. What he had promised. End result was a shiver running down her spine. Threatening each other was nothing new. The number of idle threats made to each other in passing were countless and usually served as a means of how they related to one another. This time though, things would be different and despite the "rules" agreed to there was no telling how long or how far this new war would escalate. They were mortal enemies and perhaps fated to one day be the person who killed the other. Until that day though?

Maybe the heat was getting to her but despite it all Buffy still grinned.

_This summer suddenly became a lot more interesting._

_To Be Continued..._

Appreciation: A big special thank you goes out to the story's beta, All4Spike. A talented writer in her own right please a big welcome for her and much appreciation for her assistance.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the franchise's characters, places, etc. I am not making a profit from this work other than the joy I take in writing it.

**BUFFY'S SMILEBOOK PAGE  
**

**SMILE BOOK (BETA v1.8) – Presented By UC Sunnydale Technology Department**

WELCOME TO BUFFY'S PAGE!

Date: Today

[Picture of angry shirtless Spike in pink-dyed hair bouncing off invisible barrier]

Tags: Spike, Pink, Bleach, Prank, Buffy, Fetus, Bill Idol, Win

Summary:

_If u can't stake him?"_

_FYI: Fetus = new Spike name ;-)_

B. Summers

Comments:

**ANGEL:**

_FIRST!_

**CORDYLUV:**

_So you're stalking her smilebook now?_

**NATURAL_RED:**

_Oh wow! Buffy you broke Spike? Xander is going to luv this. Wait is that my house?_

**X-FURY:**

_LOL! Oh MAN! The G-Canyn is fun but WOW. Plzzz tell me you got vide? Srry "O" key keeps sticking_

**DINGO_BABY:**

_Cool, fetus?_

**CORDYLUV:**

_Does Spike even have smilebook?_

**MISTER_IOWA_BIG_LOVE_RUFFY_4EVA_AND_EVA:**

_Why is he shirtless?_

**LA_CORRECTIONAL:**

_Nice abs. You nail him yet, B? + X why is your keyboard sticky?_

**RUPERT_GILES_SUNNYDALE_CALIFORNIA:**

_Did I just put out my name and address?_

**X-FURY:**

_LOL! YUP! STILL FUNNY!_

**REDHEAD_LOVER:**

_Hi peepz I don't know. Buffy that's funny! Watch out for revenge pranks. Spike can be... He's Spike._

**CHOZEN_SUX:**

_Don't worry Tara I'm all over that! Hey Cordy! Spike is living in a dump. I don't think he has the internet! And OZ!? Kicked Spike in the nuts, he went fetal =D_

**COLD_HARD_$$$:**

_Buffy! You broke Xander! Now we can't have sex on the donkey... :*-(_

**CORDYLUV:**

_About time someone hit him where it hurt! Donkey? (confused/worried)_

**DINGO_BABY:**

_Cool /agree with CLuv (worried)_

**NATURAL_RED:**

_OMG OZ! How r u? And yes! Very WORRIED!_

**LA_CORRECTIONAL:**

_To each their own man. But donkey? X you've gotten freak ON_

**X-FURY:**

_NO NO NO NO! We've been touring the canyn on dnkeys. We've actually been sharing the same saddle: HINT HINT_

**LA_CORRECTIONAL:**

_Now that's HOTT_

**MISTER_IOWA_BIG_LOVE_RUFFY_4EVA_AND_EVA:**

_Still shirtless?_

**NATURAL_RED:**

_OMG X! TMI! FORGETTING SPELL – NOW!_

**X-FURY:**

_Srry! :-(_

_But yeah! STILL funny! LOLZ_

**RUPERT_GILES_SUNNYDALE_CALIFORNIA_SSN_120_95_3482:**

_Any better? Anyone? Help? (cleaning glasses)_

**CHOZEN_SUX:**

_I'll come over tomorrow Giles =) Riley? I'll call you tonight * hug *_

**ANGEL:**

_STILL FIRST!_

_To Be Continued..._

Appreciation: A big special thank you goes out to the story's beta, All4Spike. A talented writer in her own right please a big welcome for her and much appreciation for her assistance.


	3. Chapter 3

Previously: In an attempt to teach Spike a lesson Buffy dyed his hair pink, bleached his clothes, took photos of it all and uploaded them to her private facebook page for all the Scoobies to enjoy. Not only did she hand Spike a humiliating and financially costly defeat but the threat of sharing those same photos with the demon community has left the vampire's credibility hostage. Promising revenge Spike decides it is time to strike back with extreme prejudice!

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the franchise's characters, places, etc. I am not making a profit from this work other than the joy I take in writing it.

**BIG BAD STRIKES BACK**

"Puttin' on some tunes, luv," Spike spoke up suddenly and reached for his DeSoto'stape deck.

"Fine," Buffy sighed as their stakeout jumped into its second hour. "But nothing Britishy."

"Bloody Americans," Spike muttered. He ejected his Ramones tape and nodded for Buffy to open the glove box.

"So what diamond in the dump am I looking for?" Buffy asked as she unlatched the compartment in the dashboard and began sorting through the hoarded mess inside.

"Only national treasure you yanks ever put out. My drinking mate, Johnny Cash."

"When was the last time you opened this?" Buffy grimaced and turned her nose up in disgust. Regardless, she pushed forward with a furrowed brow of determination reflecting her commitment to finding the mixed tape in question—if only to close the lid back on his mobile trashcan as quickly as possible. "Smells like something died in here."

"Oh yeah," Spike smiled thoughtfully. "That'd be the dead bird Dru left behind."

Buffy's head shot around and she fixed her eyes on his face, searching for any hint of deception or prank. It had been over three weeks since the incident with the hair dye and washing machine and aside from his threatening phone call, Spike had never made any further mention of retaliation. On the contrary, Buffy found them falling into some form of an unspoken truce. Aside from not killing each other or destroying their homes with pranks, a nearly nightly ritual of patrolling cemeteries together had started up.

It wasn't anything planned or discussed between the pair. Instead it began with a chance night in the cemetery that would afterward leave both warriors facing an entirely new and uncertain relationship.

Buffy turned her head away from him and gazed outward through her rolled down window, thinking back on that night three weeks before that had spurred the most uncanny of partnerships.

* * *

The night after Spike's unexpected phone call, Buffy cleared her first three cemeteries before running into said vampire on the top of a small hill in Restfield. He was fighting a trio of vampires. It was nothing out of the ordinary; neither was her decision to stand back and watch Spike get thoroughly pummeled. From the bottom of the gentle slope, Buffy looked on in amusement at the sight of Spike being repeatedly punched in the nose, kneed in the stomach, kicked in the knee, and undergoing everything short of an atomic wedgie.

Minutes passed and still the one sided scuffle continued without Buffy even contemplating stepping in. It wasn't that she wanted to see him get dusted or maimed. Rather she preferred that Spike get what was long overdue before he flipped the tables and finished them off. Then he would walk over to her, make some snarky comment to rile her up, and they would banter for the next couple of cemeteries. Eventually he would overstep his bounds and give her the reason she was waiting for to hit him and contribute her own handiwork to tonight's growing bruise collection.

Except that wasn't happening and an unsettling feeling began to grow inside her. She had no idea how long Spike had been fighting before she'd arrived but knowing him as she did, Buffy could see that he was getting winded and the tide of his battle had turned. Tonight it looked as if her favorite broken nose had finally bitten off more than he could chew. For a moment she considered just dumping him. Leave him behind to let those other vampires dust his pretty yet annoying butt. Then as they took a moment to recuperate, she would make her ambush and easily stake all three.

So it was with some surprise that Buffy felt her legs churning and pushing her onward into the fight. What led her subconscious to this unexpected decision, she could only guess, should she be of mind to contemplate it. Given her disdain towards the peroxide-pest, smart money was leaning to unlikely. Nevertheless whatever her motivations were, Buffy went with it. Pushing herself over the hill's crest she grabbed the shoulders of the nearest vamp and threw him back down the same route she had taken up. It would take a minute before the vamp would make his way back to the fight and hopefully that would be enough to take the other two down. She may be inclined to help Spike but that didn't mean she wanted to make a night of it.

The disappearance of their ally left the other two vampires caught by surprise as they looked down the slope at his sprawling body and then back to the petite blonde girl who had sent him there. They weren't the only ones either. As soon as Buffy had come upon him, Spike had felt her presence. When she didn't immediately jump to his aid he cursed his luck but wasn't surprised. Like her, he knew full well that this was how it worked between them. Upside, even if he did dust at least she would be there to see that he went down swinging. These vampires weren't fledglings and they knew how to give as good as they got. One on one it wouldn't have proven too much a challenge for him. Two on one would admittedly be tough but manageable. Beyond that he was reaching.

For over thirty minutes it had been volley after volley of fists and fangs. True to his nature, at first Spike had fought without abandon. However once he'd realized the trap he had fallen into, the vampire reined in his recklessness and started fighting more conservatively. His eyes up for an opportune misstep or dropped guard, Spike focused his mind and paced himself. There were a few opportunities he jumped on but he never had enough time to fully convert his chances. With no end in sight and his energy reserves fading fast, Spike's thoughts shifted away from winning the struggle to focussing on getting out of it in one piece.

Blessed with only a fool's luck, the other vamps picked up on this and immediately the tempo doubled as they pushed forward in an attempt to box Spike in against the wall of a nearby mausoleum. Down to his last bag of tricks, Spike had steeled his nerves for the coming fiery brimstone when out of nowhere, one of the vamps was thrown aside to be replaced by a flurry of blonde hair and pointy sticks. Picking up on the new threat, the two vampires left standing changed it up with one still exchanging blow for blow with Spike as the other peeled off to deal with Buffy. With partners switched, the fight was on again in full.

At first she figured that the reason behind Spike's performance issue was another night of too much beer and whiskey. Not until the first punch snapped across her jaw did Buffy realize what they were up against. Years older, possibly decades older, than most of Sunnydale's resident undead and fighting with a tenacity Buffy hadn't seen since that pitched battle against Adam. It was clear that these monsters were from another league. While this would have given others pause, to Buffy this understanding was as much refreshing as it was sobering. This was what she had been waiting for all summer and she would do her best to make it last, regardless of the presence of Sunnydale's most inflated ego.

When the third vampire finally managed to rejoin his comrades, Buffy felt her back press up against something big, leathery, and smelling of memories she'd love nothing more than to forget. The only thing she hated more was how he knew her inside and out. Hopefully he would overlook her excitement of finally finding herself a good slay.

"Savin' my unlife, Slayer?" Spike panted as he continued to trade blows with the vampire squared off with him. "Knew you couldn't resist this!"

_So much for him overlooking._

"Please," Buffy rolled her eyes and continued her assault against the deceptively agile but fatigued vamp before her. "Just another – oof! 'Nother day on the job. Also? The day you die, I'll throw a party!"

"Yeah?" Spike asked, running his tongue over his fangs in pleasure just as an elbow collided upside his chin. "Bloody little – think those are called funerals, luv!"

"With bright red balloons and a mariachi band?"

"Aw, Goldilocks, you do care," Spike smirked. Momentarily distracted by his nemesis' banter Spike's guard slipped and his opponent got off a quick shot to Spike's groin. Having learned from a school of hard knocks, instead of doubling over like last time, Spike took the kick in his stride and countered with a powerful uppercut to the chin, knocking his fanged-foe onto its back. He looked at Spike in surprise. Grinning wryly Spike tapped the cup beneath his jeans knowingly and nodded to Buffy behind him. "She kicks a lot harder, mate."

"Spike!" Buffy snapped, reminding him that they still very much had a fight on their hands.

"Shut up, Slayer," he grunted and with a quick flick of his wrist a stake flew out from his duster's sleeve and neatly into his hand. Seeing the danger Spike's vamp carefully got to its feet and refocused its eyes on that deadly shiv of oak in Spike's hand.

Facing off against the two other vampires, Buffy was having a much easier fight than Spike. Since they'd already been occupied with Spike for over half an hour, it didn't matter how much skill her opponents had. Against a fresh fighter of Buffy's caliber there was no hope and they knew it. Brandishing her own stake, Buffy pounced to get her first kill of the night when selfishly the vampire to her right pushed the other one flying into her, knocking her off balance. With her grip loosened, the pushee vampire slapped the stake aside leaving Buffy weaponless and wide open. Needing a moment to regroup, both vampires saw their chance and made a desperate charge that tackled her to the ground.

Surprised by the latest setback, Buffy went from thrilled to pissed and decided it was only fair to share her irritation. Before either could lean in for the kill she took one neck in each hand and slayer-strength slammed their heads together. They backpedalled and grabbed their heads in pain and Buffy took the moment to scramble to her feet and search for her missing stake. Coming up empty, she only had precious seconds before they were on her again. She focussed on Spike as he lifted his stake high, poised to finish his own opponent off. Without a second thought, she elbowed him in the ribs and caught his stake as it fell.

"Crazy bitch," Spike spat and whipped around to knock her over the head. While his overhead strike did connect, it didn't come without a nasty reminder of the chip in his head. "OW!"

"Dumbass," Buffy managed to spit out as she also winced from his hit to the back of her head. Then she winced more as her two vamps tackled her before knocking the other stake away. "Crap," she muttered and brought her forearms up to hold the two vampires at bay. "Little help?"

"Oof!" Spike yelped as his vampire delivered a hard kick that rolled him heel over head backwards and right into the two vamps pinning Buffy down. The pressure off her chest, Buffy turned her head just in time to see Spike and her two former dance partners roll off the hill.

"That'll work," Buffy grinned and jumped to her feet with her guard at the ready. Stakeless but facing only one vampire now, Spike's opponent from moment ago, she smiled devilishly and went to work.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Spike hollered back at her from the bottom of the hill. Two against one, Spike was in trouble and his enemies knew it. Spying a convenient tombstone, he reared his boot back and gave it a sharp kick – only to cry out in pain and hop around on his other foot. The other two vamps didn't know what craziness had possessed him to try and break his foot but decided to make the most of it and closed in. Gritting his teeth Spike stood his ground and aimed at the tombstone again. Lashing out with another powerful kick this time it had the desired effect and broke down the granite slab into several sizable pieces. Picking up a rock in each hand Spike sneered at the two vamps and began punching one right after the other with the rocks in his hands. The sound of breaking cheekbones and cracking ribs brought a satisfied smile to Spike's bloodied lips.

Buffy was systematicallytaking her vampire apart piece by piece. He was still putting up some fight but his fate was sealed, or would be as soon as Buffy found something to stake him with. Deciding that she would have more luck finding something pointy down the hill, she set him up with a quick one-two combination that left him staggering. A followup uppercut lifted the vampire off his feet and sent him careening at breakneck speed down the hill.

"Incoming!" she shouted to Spike and moved to follow when out of the corner of her eye there was a welcoming sight—her stake from earlier.

_Well it's about time!_

She snatched it up, shoved it in the waistband of her pants and rushed down the hill, eventually falling into a straight-leg slide eager to rejoin the fight.

"Oi!" Spike yelled when he saw her coming down. His tombstone-brass-knuckle variant was paying off and already had one of the vamps he had been squaring off against out cold. "You find my stake yet?"

"If you mean MY stake then yes!" Buffy shot back as she somersaulted to her feet once on leveled ground. With two out of the three vamps down and out she leisurely walked to each fallen enemy. Kneeling down beside the nearest one she drove the stake home. Moments later and her stake slammed into the other vampire's heart. Dusting off her pants she slowly pulled herself up only to, like before, not make any effort to help Spike.

"Give me the damn wood already!" Spike demanded. He might have had the other vamp on the ropes but by now Spike was just as ready to keel over from his own exhaustion. Folding her arms across her chest, Buffy's sole reaction was a broad smirk causing Spike to roll his eyes at her selective brand of helpfulness. He dropped his tombstone-knuckles, took hold of the last remaining vampire and shoved him back a full dozen feet at an angle to line up perfectly with Buffy's upraised stake. With all three finally dusted Spike collapsed to his knees, bloodied and exhausted.

"You're welcome, by the way," Buffy said, smiling sweetly at his current state of being. Hair tousled, face bruised and swollen with more bruises likely numbering in the twenty plus category, Spike was very much out of sorts from what had been an hour long battle. Of course his unlikely savior didn't get off so well either. While nowhere near as torn up, Buffy was sporting some cuts and bruises as well. "Whose tombstone was that?"

"Uh," Spike looked about at the crumbled granite and managed to find one slab still whole. A slab that also had the helpful grave site owner's name etched into it. "Huh... A bloke named Jesse Bor – something. Last name was broken off." Dropping the tombstone remains Spike pulled up his duster's sleeve, revealing a busted quick-draw holster that had ejected its stake into his hand. "Bollocks," he muttered.

"Huh," Buffy remarked. "Where did you pick that up?"

"Pilfered it from the Initiative's armory before we toddled off topside," Spike answered. "Didn't bother trying it out until tonight."

"Of course," Buffy replied and studied her nemesis from head to toe. "Ever the opportunist."

"Well of course, luv," Spike chuckled and unstrapped it from his forearm. Stuffing it inside his inside duster pocket he resolved to tinker with it later on. Recalling the fight, he shot Buffy an angry scowl. "What the 'ell was that anyway?"

Buffy grinned wickedly knowing full well he was referring to when she grabbed his stake.

"Well... Well what you just said! Seizing an opportunity, moron."

"Fair 'enuf," Spike shrugged and a few seconds later burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"Hey! Houston calling Spikey, you do realize if I hadn't wandered in, you'd be dust?" Buffy asked, raising a brow expectantly. Spike paused in his giggles to meet her semi-incredulous gaze. He considered her words, shrugged, and fell into another bout of reckless laughter.

Then it happened.

Maybe it was the effective high from the fight or the fact that when they fought side by side neither could help taking a shot at the other, but Spike's giggles became infectious and soon Buffy was laughing right alongside him.

"Bloody hell," Spike said once his laughter finally subsided. Using the palms of his hands he pushed himself off the ground and shook his head at the sudden rush of inertia. Regaining control, he shot her a dirty look and gave her the two-fingered salute. Buffy responded in kind and flashed him the finger before both turned to go their separate ways.

"I still hate you!" Buffy called back before they were out of earshot.

"Unlikely" Spike called back. "No chance you hate me as much as I hate you!"

"Really?" Buffy yelled and turned around to see his billowing black duster fading away. "Well bring it on, Fetus! Summer is far from over!"

* * *

The telltale sound of Spike lighting up brought Buffy's thoughts back to the present. Frowning in disgust she waved her hand to clear the secondhand smoke that was wafting up from the lit cigarette dangling between his lips.

"At least roll down your window," Buffy insisted as she resumed her search through Spike's glove box for his Johnny Cash tape. "Some of us do have lungs to worry about."

"Hm," Spike grunted nonchalantly but did roll down the window as she requested. Taking a deep drag he blew smoke rings out of his mouth and into the cool desert night. With both windows open, a gusty chill blew over her but despite the day's temperature, Buffy had come prepared with a warm fall jacket. "Does make you wonder," he continued. "This chip keeps me from hurting anythin' living right? Interestin' that doesn't extend to me smokin' my fag and polluting your bodily airbags."

"Everything has its limits," Buffy shrugged and at last found the supposed "national treasure" Spike had asked her to find. She shoved it into the empty tape deck and it started up automatically, and to her surprise she didn't find the music all that bad, not that she would tell him that.

"Well, pet?" Spike said, waiting for her critique.

"Still sucks," she huffed.

"It's vintage, Slayer," he chuckled as the words of Cash's hit _Hurt_ filled the car. "Give it time and you'll turn into a believer. Certainly better than that pop shite you rhyme to on patrol."

"Up yours, Spike."

"Bitch," Spike retorted. "How reliable is this intel anyway?"

"I leaned on Willy pretty hard," Buffy informed him as they continued with the stakeout. Parked behind a cluster of dead trees and baked rocks, they kept watch over an abandoned farm house down the rural desert road. Over and hour from Sunnydale and miles away from the highway, they had been waiting for over two hours already. "What about you?"

"Poker the other night hinted at something," Spike offered and shrugged. "Summer on the hellmouth. Slummin' to outsourcing just to stir up a good brawl."

"Whatever," Buffy sighed. "I would like to get back soon, though."

"And why's that?"

"Rented Sixth Sense a couple nights ago. I haven't watched it yet and it's due back tomorrow. Xander says it's some kind of exciting plot twister," Buffy explained and then looked at her partner in violence. "Have you seen it?"

"As a rule if Harris says something is 'exciting' I yawn and clock out."

"Oh of course," Buffy rolled her eyes at unsurprising Spike's attitude of her close friend.

"What? Roomed with the prat didn't I?" Spike reminded her.

"Whatever – oh hey! This one sounds catchy," Buffy commented when the Cash song ended and the next began.

"Yeah," Spike nodded as his head bobbed along to the tune. "Hendrix fan then. All along the bleedin' watch tower."

"Catchy, I said. Doesn't mean it isn't old."

"Vintage," Spike repeated and gave her words some thought. "You like beer?

"What?" Buffy said, confused at the turn of conversation. "What does that-?"

"I mean when you first started drinkin'," Spike clarified.

"Alcohol and Buffy are non-mixy."

"Oh really? Funny cause I've seen you mix it up more than once."

"I don't get drunk though. Unlike some blonde pains in the ass," she snorted.

"Takes one to know one my fellow arse-pain," Spike fired back. "My point was, for some it's an acquired taste."

Buffy knew that Spike had made a fair point but refused to say anything further on the subject. Even so, she did find her foot tapping along to the beat of this Hendrix person Spike had complimented. Time continued to pass and as song after song played, still there was no sign of their quarry.

"Should just come back tomorrow," Buffy as the waiting finally got the better of her. "The nest will be asleep by then. All we would have to do is sneak in and do them in their sleep."

"Splendid thought. You and the big pile of dust sittin' next to you," Spike said, rolling his eyes at the idea of him driving to the middle of a desert with no cover.

"Daylight hasn't stopped you before."

"But never without an emergency manhole in sight," Spike replied. " Unlike some foreheads I might mention, I'm not brooding to the point of offin' myself."

"Excuse me?" Buffy snarled.

"Talkin' about your ex," Spike said, speaking very slowly for her benefit. "Señor broods with gel."

"No, I mean how did you know about that?"

"Huh? What are you on about?"

"So you didn't know," Buffy realized.

"You tellin' me the grand poof actually tried to go poof?" Spike snickered. "And I missed it? Well miracles can happen. First time in an age that tosser did something intelligent."

Buffy decided to let a stiff punch to Spike's well defined jaw sum up her feelings regarding that particular sentiment.

"He was being controlled," she seethed, face reddening with fury at Spike's insolence to her lost love.

"Oh really?"Spike scoffed and tenderly massaged the impression her fist had left on his face. "Then why is it I think you're not tellin' the whole story. You forgetting that I've known that cold blooded bastard longer than you've been alive, Slayer? Souled or unsouled, once that piece of shit has his mind set on something, only way to stop him is to snuff him out."

"I've sent him to hell," Buffy said, her tone darkly as her eyes narrowed at him sharply. "And truce or no truce I promise to do the same to you if you don't drop this right now."

"This truce ends as soon as my chip is out," Spike said, his tone of voice also promising retribution. "Preach and threaten all you want, Buffy. No matter what occurs before our dance ends in either my dust or your cold dead body."

"Looking forward to it, William," Buffy glared.

Two stubborn soldiers born on opposite sides of the coin found themselves locked in a fierce stare-off with neither willing to give an inch. The catalyst for what brought them to this junction could be blamed on the person she loved and that Spike would forever loathe, but deep down they both knew that Angel had nothing to do with it. Their story was one of unadulterated hatred but also a buried denial of something else that neither would dare to put a label on. They wanted it. They wanted to end this dance and battle it out there and now under that clear desert sky, to a song only they could hear.

"_I'd rather be fightin' you anyway."_

"_Mutual."_

It was only the flicker of approaching headlights and the sound of tires coming to a stop that reminded Buffy and Spike that once again their dance would have to be postponed. Breaking their stare they turned their heads to see not one car but three circle around Spike's DeSoto and cut off any chance of escape. The tape ended and the music stopped.

"Rain check?"

"You know it, how many?"

"Dozen vamps and three humans," Spike answered as the car doors opened and their lights turned off. Glowing amber eyes shone through the darkness confirming for Buffy the nature of her enemy. The nature of _their_ enemy. The odds were stacked but in that moment she didn't care how bad it was. Filled with unspent anger she needed this.

"Looks like our intelligence was off," Buffy whispered. "Only three cars. Missing one."

"Yeah," Spike smiled and flicked his cigarette out his window and reached into the backseat for the weapons they had packed. "We should inquire about that. Show 'em that we care about their friends. 'Tis the neighborly thing to do."

"Slayer!" a loud voice boomed out and one pair of the amber eyes moved forward. "Come out! We know you're in there. Can feel it!"

"Showtime, Goldilocks."

Spike casually lit another cigarette and then stepped out into the cool desert night with Buffy following from her side of the car. Immediately, Spike shifted into game face to see better, while Buffy peered out into the darkness.

She would have to rely on starlight, of which thankfully there was enough that she could put up some sort of a fight. Nevertheless, she was at a disadvantage, not that they didn't account for this going in. She would just have to hope that her gamble paid off. In the meantime her slayer sense was flying off the scale as she felt the presence of vampires in all directions. She spared a glance at Spike who was now leaning against the car's hood, looking not the least bit bothered, and just puffing away on his cigarette. Buffy found it oddly comforting that even with all of these other vampire signatures, she knew him well enough to detect him anywhere.

"We don't want you," the leader said with a disparaging look to Spike. "Take off now and leave the slayer behind. One time offer."

"Interestin' proposal," Spike mused and pretended that he was seriously giving it some thought. Buffy couldn't help it, she smiled. The fact they were at each others throats only minutes before had her opening the 'forget-about-it-for-now' deposit box and locking it inside.

"Really?" the group's leader snorted. "This should be good."

"You make like the dust you'll soon be and breeze away. Leave the entrées and take off. You don't come back anywhere near the hellmouth and maybe I can convince my girl here to let things slide."

"You really think you can take us on?" he sneered as the twelve vampires, surrounding them from every direction, began to close in side by side. If they failed here the three human victims, lying bound and gagged in the back of the cars, were as good as dead.

"No," Buffy interjected and didn't miss the irony behind that particular phrase. The last time it was directed towards her she and Spike defied the odds and came out on top. Since then they had only grown stronger. "We were expecting more."

"They ran into some trouble in LA," the head vamp revealed bitterly. "Don't worry though. We'll being take care of those hunters soon enough. Not that you'll be alive to warn them."

"Warn them?" Spike chuckled and shared a look with Buffy who finished off his taunt.

"Warn them about what?"

Spike took one last drag and tossed his burning cigarette into the pool of gasoline next to his feet. Immediately the pool ignited and a thin river of fire blazed out from the pool and spread down a trail of gasoline that ran its course straight into the ring of advancing vampires. Realizing the trap, the leader turned to warn the others but it was too late, the fire reached the oiled hay spread out in all directions which erupted into a bright fiery inferno.

Their ranks fell apart as several were caught in the initial blast while others leaped out of the way and landed on either side of the trap into which Buffy and Spike had baited them. They had begun the encounter with twelve and now there were eight. Disarrayed with survivors caught inside the ring and out, before the vampires could even begin to counterattack, a sword decapitated one and a crossbow bolt pierced another.

As Spike reloaded his crossbow, hanging well back from the dangerous flames, Buffy pressed on with her assault, facing off against the two remaining vamps on their side of the burning ring. With six down and six left, Spike jumped to the roof of his car and took aim at the four vampires on the outside who were stuck trying to cross the line of fire, only to be pushed back by the intense heat and deadly flames.

A second crossbow bolt took one out and his third dusted another as Spike alternated between his and Buffy's crossbows. Realizing the desperation of the situation, the two remaining vampires on the outside made a dash to the nearest car, only to cry out in pain as Spike lobbed three large bottles of holy water in their direction which broke open, spraying their contents on all sides. As they boiled in pain, Spike reloaded both crossbows and, holding them akimbo, pulled both triggers simultaneously. All vampires on the outside dusted, he turned his attention to Buffy. He saw that she had decapitated her second vampire and now was facing off with the last remaining – the overly confident leader.

Sword drawn, Buffy advanced, pushing him back towards the wall of fire behind him and leaving him with nowhere to run. Nowhere to escape. The sound of Spike's cruel mocking laughter reached the leader's ears but he didn't pay the other vampire any mind. With flames licking at him from every direction, the dark outline of Buffy and her dusted blade was all he could see. He drew back his fangs and changed back into his human guise, hoping that that might have a greater effect.

His long pleading speech to her fell on deaf ears yet Buffy lowered her sword all the same, much to Spike's surprise. The look of relief was evident on the leader's face and babbled his thanks. Buffy, a disarming smile on her face, held up her hand to stop his rambling.

"You should have taken Spike's offer," she whispered, betraying her true intentions. "I have enough dead friends."

Buffy's foot shot forward into a powerful thrust kick that connected solidly with the vampire's chest. He fell backwards into the wall of fire and his dying screams filled the night sky and in moments another demon was turned to ash and sent straight to hell.

Buffy turned back to Spike and smiled.

"Fire pretty."

* * *

"Uh listen, Slayer," Spike began after he placed his borrowed crossbow into Buffy's weapon chest.

Buffy turned her head and looked at Spike expectantly. Between extinguishing the fire and driving the three humans to the hospital, it had been two hours since their midnight barbecue in the desert and only now were they finally back inside Buffy's house on Revello Drive – the staging point for the night's mission. Until then, Spike had remained curiously silent and Buffy was fairly certain as to why. Exhilarating as the night's battle had been, what had happened between them in the car was much more memorable.

"It's late," Buffy said, not wanting to get into another argument.

"No, I know," he said and rubbed the back of his head.

"Spike; it's late," she repeated. "I'm tired, and we smell like chimneys. So whatever it is?"

"Back before when I-? Look I'm not going to say sorry because we both know that's not true and I'm not goin' to try and sugarcoat anything because we both know how this is all going to end."

"Spike-"

"I-I-I'm wearing a bloody cup!" Spike stammered out and at Buffy's incredulous look he brushed his hand through his curls and tried again. "I'm wearing a cup because that shot below the belt? It really sucked and I know that you and I are better than that."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm saying that I respect you."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Spike replied, clearly uncomfortable.

"Thanks?" Buffy said, uncertain as to what he was getting at.

"And tonight you were really..."

"Scary?" Buffy tried.

"No, not that!" Spike sputtered. "Big Bad and all," he gestured. "We don't get scared."

"Of course," Buffy said doubtfully and raised an eyebrow to further emphasis her skepticism.

"I just... Bloody 'ell! I respect you, 'aight?"

"Okay," she replied slowly. "That's good to know, I think."

"Right," Spike nodded and puffed up his chest in an attempt to brush off his strained confession. Knowing that at any other time she would send him packing, Buffy folded her arms and tapped her foot patiently to hear him out on anything else he needed to say. Spike looked as though he was trying to say something else but he held his hands up in exasperation, gave her a small wave, and strutted back out of the front door and into the night. Following after him, Buffy looked on from her door until he got into his car and drove off.

"That vampire," she muttered and closed the front door. As if the night hadn't been thrilling enough, he had to top it all off with whatever that thing was. Her throat dry from the night's activities, Buffy passed through the open doors on her way to get a glass of water from the kitchen when she spied the rental tape out of the corner of her eye. She turned her gaze on the unwatched movie that was due back the next day and and sighed, knowing now that she would just have to rent it again another time.

_And as much as I hate to admit it Spike does have a point. Xander has a tendency to over embellish on some movies. Not that I mind or anything. It's actually kind of cute and wait what?_

Buffy's eyes shot back at the video lying innocently at the center of her coffee table.

_He wouldn't! _

"_I just... Bloody 'ell! I respect you, 'aight?"_

_He would!_

"Well not this time my platinum haired fetus," Buffy smirked and with her own little strut made her way into the living room. She picked up the video tape and studied it for a moment. She looked at the VHS tape, inside and out, to make sure that it wasn't booby-trapped in some way. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary on the outside, which only meant that whatever Spike had done must have been to the tape itself.

_He is so buying the rental store another copy of this!_

Popping the tape into her VCR, Buffy stood back and confidently pressed play on the remote. Fast forwarding through the previews she realized that whatever Spike had planned would happen later on in the tape. Still she couldn't return the movie to the rental store without knowing exactly what.

_I'm so kicking your ass next time I see you._

The previews ended and the introduction credits were starting up when all of a sudden the tape cut out and the smirking grin of Spike's face popped up onto the screen.

_Knew it!_

"Hey there, Slayer," Spike's cocky London North accent broke through as the screen was shaky in his low budget free hand video recording. "Saw that you picked up Sixth Sense and I gotta tell yah, luv. You have good taste."

_Yup. Knew it._

"A lovely plot. Lots of brilliant twists and turns especially with Bruce Willis. His main character? He just so happens to be-"

"Better luck next time," Buffy laughed and fast forwarded it past Spike's obvious attempt to spoil the movie for her. After a few seconds of fast forwarding Buffy deemed it likely that his futile attempts at ruining the movie for her had passed and hit play to hear the rest of his message.

"But I don't want to go on and on!"

_Well that's a first._

"The movie is still not half bad and even with that spoiler you should check it out. Enjoy, Slayer. See you in the graveyard."

_Thank you, Spike. I think I'll do that._

Tired as she was, now there was no way Buffy would let the chance of upping him slip by. She had caught on early enough to thwart his revenge prank and now could watch the movie as it should be. Knowing that next time she ran into him, she was going to rub it all in his face only made it that more enjoyable. Buffy returned to the kitchen to fetch her glass of water thencame back and settled into the couch with remote in hand.

_This is so going to be worth it. Xander will get a kick out of it too._

Sipping her water, Buffy smiled as she got more and more into the plot. Tonight was going swimmingly. Great fight. A pseudo–apology from Spike! A great movie which Xander had encouraged her to watch and she'd even sidestepped that lame attempt at sabotaging it for her! Buffy let out a particularly chilling evil laugh.

_This can't get any – better? What the...?_

"_Harder! Harder! Oh MISTER SPIKE!"_

"No..."

"_Shut up, slut. You bloody take it."_

"OH MY GOD!" Buffy cried as she watched Spike's naked backside thrust in and out of a very flushed and very naked blonde woman bent over a kitchen table. Buffy's jaw droppedand she sat on her couch, paralyzed and shocked beyond reason as minutes passed with her eyes transfixed at what her mortal enemy was doing on her mother's television screen.

And she saw _everything._ The camera angled from front to back revealing that Spike had a body that most hetero women would just love to run their hands over. She had seen Spike shirtless before although of course she'd never taken time out to actually appreciate it, much less appreciate the way his muscles flexed and moved in the most erotic way imaginable!

The pair shifted into an entirely new position and...

"How is that even possible?!" Buffy gasped.

"_You want it, baby?"_

"_Yeaaa... So bad!"_

"_Who am I?"_

"_Bad... You're the Big Bad!"_

Suddenly Spike pulled away and the actress jumped off the table. The camera changed angles again with the actress getting on her knees and-

"**OH MY GOD!"**

Buffy tilted her entire head to the right in an inverted "L" shape when the truth hit home that Spike had absolutely _nothing_ to overcompensate for. Suddenly Buffy realized exactly _why_ the actress was kneeling in front of him and hurriedly scrambled for the remote to turn everything off. Already she had seen far too much.

Yes, she knew exactly how he felt under that red button down shirt from Willow's spell last year but still!

"Bleach," Buffy murmured, shell-shocked as she took the tape out of the VCR. "Brain-bleach!" she whimpered and carried the tape to the garage where she threw it into the nearest trash can. "Brain-bleach not invented yet," she realized and hurried out of the garage and back into the house. "Not invented and OH MY GOD!"

_How was that thing with the chair and the ceiling light even possible?_

"Shower!" Buffy exclaimed and climbed the stairs. Course charted, her thought process was flying at warp speed. Pushing her way past the bathroom door she shut it behind her and couldn't shed her clothes fast enough. Alternating between shock at what she had witnessed and deciding to finally get her hands on an actual forgetting spell, she turned the shower temperature all the way to cold before plunging in.

"I'm going to kill him," Buffy's shivered with lips and teeth chattering under the freezing stream. "From dust to dust, his unlife is officially over!"

* * *

The next night on her patrol, Buffy had only one goal:

Wipe that smug look off Spike's face.

As angry as she was, Buffy knew she wouldn't dust him. She'd thought about it. She'd dreamed about it. She'd whittled a new stake and carved his name onto it. Despite all of that, and her urge to stick something pointy inside him to see how he liked it, she knew, deep down, that it wouldn't be right. She would regret it afterward.

And yeah, all in all, he'd pulled it off. He'd got her good. Really good. That didn't mean she wasn't going to threaten him that if he told _anyone_ he would meet a dusty end. Of course, that threat would only happen after a very memorable beating, up and down all over Restfield – as soon as he got there, at least. It was still very early and despite her careful watch, Spike had yet to make an appearance. She knew better than to sit atop his crypt but she did find a spot, far enough away to not be detected by his disgusting vampire nose, yet ready to strike when he did show up. When that happened, he was hers.

An hour passed and she never shirked her vigil for a moment. Another hour passed and still she waited. However when it was getting on for three hours,she had to call it. Not only were her legs cramped but she had to finish the rest of her rounds. Determined to set a record time for her patrol, Buffy sprinted through the remaining cemeteries, intent on returning to Restfield as soon as they were cleared. An hour and a half later, she was back in that same spot, sweating from her run. For all her efforts Buffy ran into no other would-be vamps and demons.

Unsure if he had snuck in when she was occupied elsewhere, Buffy did a quick perimeter scout around Spike's crypt. There weren't any tinglies but that didn't mean that "bloody" vampire hadn't found a way to mask his presence. It wouldn't be the first time he'd resorted to a spell. With that thought in mind, she charged into his crypt with stakes in both hands. No joy; it was as her senses had told her; nothing. Zero signs. Screaming in anger, she took out the stake carved with "SPIKE" and left it in his chair to find. He would get the message.

Storming out, she reached for her walkman and fiddled with the ear buds, plugging them in both ears before pressing play on the walkman to hear her latest mixed tape. Remembering what Giles had taught her, she started to slow her breathing and count to ten.

_One-Two-Three-_

"_YOU'RE THE BIG BAD!"_

Buffy's eyes bulged out of her sockets as her ears were suddenly filled with sounds of Spike having sex. Worse, the audio clip he had doctored into her playlist was clearly from the same porno. Every single visualization from the night before came rushing back into her mind's eye.

Another scream rang out across the cemetery.

* * *

"He's dead," Buffy muttered as she stomped her way back into her house. "He is dead!"

She couldn't take it anymore. She really couldn't. She needed to vent. She needed to rant. Hopefully Willow was on so she could-

"What the fuck?"

Polaroid photos were littered across her room.

The floor.

Her dresser.

Stuck into the edges of her mirror.

Her desk, with her computer.

And of course, her bed.

Buffy's face turned red and a pulsing vein she didn't know she had began to throb angrily away.

Snatching the nearest photo, she saw that it was a picture of Spike standing shirtless and pantless in her closet in only a black thong – HER THONG – and Angel's old coat draped across his shoulders. He stood, hands on his hips, chest puffed proudly, and head raised heroically in a very superhero-esque impression. Buffy wondered if she could ever look at that coat the same way.

_Punch his nose..._

She picked up one of the pictures on her dresser which showed Spike still shirtless and still in the same black thong, which did nothing to hide his "package" bursting at the seams. Only this time instead of Angel's coat, he was trying on her bras.

_Beat him with a baseball bat..._

Snatching one from her mirror she saw a photo of him putting on her favorite shade of lipstick. Worse, when she looked at the mirror, he'd left her a kiss on the glass and written out a message in that same lipstick:

"_I respect you ;-)"_

It was all she could do to keep from smashing the mirror with her fist. The lipstick though, didn't fare as well when she crunched it to pieces inside her powerful fist.

_Drown him in holy water..._

Not knowing how much more she could take before exploding, Buffy turned her attention to her bed. She ignored all of the pictures save for the one on her pillow and what she saw was finally the last straw.

_Nail you to your crypt and let the sun rise..._

His duster, those same boxer shorts, and Mister Gordo. With her lipstick smeared all over his lips and duster opened out wide revealing all of his muscular chest and ripped abs, Spike was lying back on her bed against the headrest and holding her prized stuffed animal in his right hand as his left petted it lovingly.

_Open Acathla and send you to hell..._

She looked fearfully around the room for anything else particularly horrifying and her eyes fell on her computer monitor and what she saw made her see red.

The comments on her Smile Book page were already pouring in.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Appreciation: A big special thank you goes out to the story's beta, All4Spike. A talented writer in her own right please a big welcome for her and much appreciation for her assistance.

-S


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the franchise's characters, places, etc. I am not making a profit from this work other than the joy I take in writing it.

**BUFFY'S SMILEBOOK PAGE  
**

**SMILE BOOK (BETA v1.8) – Presented By UC Sunnydale Technology Department**

WELCOME TO BUFFY'S PAGE!

Date: Today

[Picture of angry shirtless Spike in pink-dyed hair bouncing off invisible barrier]

Tags: Spike, Pink, Bleach, Prank, Buffy, Fetus, Bill Idol, Win

Summary:

_If u can't stake him?"_

_FYI: Fetus = new Spike name ;-)_

B. Summers

Comments:

**ANGEL:**

_FIRST!_

**CORDYLUV:**

_So you're stalking her smilebook now?_

**NATURAL_RED:**

_Oh wow! Buffy you broke Spike? Xander is going to luv this. Wait is that my house?_

**X-FURY:**

_LOL! Oh MAN! The G-Canyn is fun but WOW. Plzzz tell me you got vide? Srry "O" key keeps sticking_

**DINGO_BABY:**

_Cool, fetus?_

**CORDYLUV:**

_Does Spike even have smilebook?_

**MISTER_IOWA_BIG_LOVE_RUFFY_4EVA_AND_EVA:**

_Why is he shirtless?_

**LA_CORRECTIONAL:**

_Nice abs. You nail him yet, B? + X why is your keyboard sticky?_

**RUPERT_GILES_SUNNYDALE_CALIFORNIA:**

_Did I just put out my name and address?_

**X-FURY:**

_LOL! YUP! STILL FUNNY!_

**REDHEAD_LOVER:**

_Hi peepz I don't know. Buffy that's funny! Watch out for revenge pranks. Spike can be... He's Spike._

**CHOZEN_SUX:**

_Don't worry Tara I'm all over that! Hey Cordy! Spike is living in a dump. I don't think he has the internet! And OZ!? Kicked Spike in the nuts, he went fetal =D_

**COLD_HARD_$$$:**

_Buffy! You broke Xander! Now we can't have sex on the donkey... :*-(_

**CORDYLUV:**

_About time someone hit him where it hurt! Donkey? (confused/worried)_

**DINGO_BABY:**

_Cool /agree with CLuv (worried)_

**NATURAL_RED:**

_OMG OZ! How r u? And yes! Very WORRIED!_

**LA_CORRECTIONAL:**

_To each their own man. But donkey? X you've gotten freak ON_

**X-FURY:**

_NO NO NO NO! We've been touring the canyn on dnkeys. We've actually been sharing the same saddle: HINT HINT_

**LA_CORRECTIONAL:**

_Now that's HOTT_

**MISTER_IOWA_BIG_LOVE_RUFFY_4EVA_AND_EVA:**

_Still shirtless?_

**NATURAL_RED:**

_OMG X! TMI! FORGETTING SPELL – NOW!_

**X-FURY:**

_Srry! :-(_

_But yeah! STILL funny! LOLZ_

**RUPERT_GILES_SUNNYDALE_CALIFORNIA_SSN_120_95_3482:**

_Any better? Anyone? Help? (cleaning glasses)_

**CHOZEN_SUX:**

_I'll come over tomorrow Giles =) Riley? I'll call you tonight * hug *_

**ANGEL:**

_STILL FIRST!_

_To Be Continued..._

Appreciation: A big special thank you goes out to the story's beta, All4Spike. A talented writer in her own right please a big welcome for her and much appreciation for her assistance.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the franchise's characters, places, etc. I am not making a profit from this work other than the joy I take in writing it.

Previously: First it was ruining Spike's black on black and then it was scarring Buffy for life with images that would plague both her nightmares and fantasies. June is past and Buffy decides to get back by showing Spike that when you hijack the Slayer's webpage, the consequences will be severe – won't they?

**MISTER JULY**

"Dru, baby..." Spike murmured sleepily from his bedding atop his sarcophagus. "Meant nothing to me, see? Summers' head all stuffed just for you my Black Beauty."

It had been weeks since his prank on Buffy and so far she had showed no signs of retaliation. At first she had been angry but eventually they'd resumed their normal patrol pattern and were back to trading barbs and belittling one another like proper enemies. The previous night's patrol hadn't been too much fun for him, for some reason the slayer was going out of her way to drive him especially bonkers. It ended with yet another sore nose and hefty bar tab at Willy's. By the time he got home, Spike was barely conscious.

"What's this, Princess? You drew a bath for," Spike's eyes fluttered open and what he saw left him nearly speechless. "Me?"

His crypt was flooded with water.

_What the hell?_

Groggily blinking his eyes, he sat upright and looked around his crypt, trying to discern the source of the overflow. It wasn't so high yet, roughly six inches deep, and thankfully his television remained untouched. In fact its power cord and input cables had been disconnected and placed on top of the set, keeping them safely out of the water. Turning his head he saw that the same could also be said for his fridge. His crypt was flooded but his two biggest appliances were out of harm's way. It was almost as if-

"What the?"

A big yellow ducky pool float was floating nearby. He had never seen it before and certainly didn't have one in his home.

_But then why would I?_

"That bitch!"

* * *

_A Few Weeks Ago..._

"The vertigo is gonna grow," Spike hummed from atop his crypt. "Cause it's so dangerous... dangerous?"

Spike furrowed his brow as he rolled the lyrics over in his head. It was tricky getting down these newer songs, especially ones he had been listening to for less than a day. Still when he had been toying with Buffy's patrol tapes two days ago, fixing it with the audio from his sex tape, he'd found himself listening to a couple of her patrol tunes and a few had stuck. Snapping his fingers and slightly bobbing his head along to a beat only he could hear Spike grasped for the lyrics just beyond his reach as he patiently waited for the night's entertainment to arrive. Keeping an eye on Restfield Cemetery's entrance he knew it was only a matter of time until that bobble-head of blonde came stomping through the wrought iron gates.

"You'll have to sign a waiver," Spike continued and turned his attention away from the entrance to look up at the starry night sky when something flashed out of the corner of his eye. Snapping his head to the left his eyes shot wide just as a softball size rock crashed into his face, directly on his already aching nose. Caught completely unaware Spike lost his perch, slid, and fell the ten feet to the ground, shoulder first. Groaning in pain, he touched his fingers to his swelling nose and felt a trickle of cold dark blood beginning to drip.

"Let me guess," a particularly snide voice callously announced over the graveyard. Sure enough when Spike lifted his eyes he was greeted with the sight of aforementioned blonde bobble-head coming from the opposite direction of the cemetery entrance. "Fumigating your hole in the ground?"

_Huh? She must've hopped the wall._

Spike broke into a chuckle when Buffy came to a stop next to him, looking at him expectantly.

"Can't help it if I think you're funny when you're mad," he shrugged helplessly.

"What?"

"Forget it," Spike shrugged and took his fingers from his nose to clean the blood away with his tongue. "Nice arm, luv."

"Did you just taste your own nose blood?"

"Yeah what of it?" Spike asked, indignantly. Off her look of disgust Spike rolled his eyes. "Well what the hell would you do if you bled hot fudge?"

"Gross, Spike!" Buffy looked to continue degrading him but frowned and looked quizzically down at his feet. "Are you wearing sneakers?"

"Yeah," Spike said blatantly and wiggled his bright yellow shoes at her.

"Why?" she pressed, still struck by the oddity of Spike wearing something other than his signature Doc Martens.

"Figured we'd be running circuits around Sunnyhell by now – only this time me the mouse and you the cat," Spike explained and then gave a furtive glance at the rock Buffy had smack him with – only it wasn't a rock. Squinting his eyes he recognized the outline of Buffy's cell phone, or rather the fake cell phone he'd swapped for hers when he'd stolen it. "Although, had I known you were planning on sniping me I would've worn a helmet. Swear, Summers, first kicks to the bits and now bleedin' phones to the conk? What's next?"

"First? You're a rat, Spike. Not a mouse. Two? Just be happy it's not wooden and pointy," Buffy taunted. "After what you pulled last night?"

"Last night or the night before?" Spike probed with a playful glimmer in his eyes.

"Both!" Buffy snapped. "And what did we agree on about Mister Gordo?"

"The stupid pig? He remains unbitten," Spike reminded and reached his hand into his duster to retrieve a familiar cell phone. "Misplace something?"

"Maybe your fingers," Buffy scowled and opened her hand for it.

"My fingers?" Spike repeated and tossed the phone perfectly into her awaiting hand.

"That is what I said," Buffy nodded and checked over her phone for any dents or scratches. "Since you have this habit of putting them in places where they don't belong."

"So you misplaced _my_ fingers?" Spike questioned and leered her body seductively. "Not sure I followed you round that bend, are you suggestin' places where they shouldn't go or places you wish they would go?"

"You're a pig, Spike."

"If I am then you're the one who likes to watch the piggy play in the pen," Spike grinned mischievously.

"What-what? You watched me!" Buffy shrieked as another thought immediately occurred to her. "Were you taking photos?!"

"No and bloody 'ell do I wish now," Spike hooted.

"Then how did you know-?"

"I didn't," Spike said, his voice filled with evil mirth. "Except you just told me, Goldilocks."

"Oh God," Buffy groaned, once again mortified by evidence of Spike's uncanny intuition about all things slayer related.

"This night still going the way you pictured it, pet?" Spike teased.

"Might want to think about checking the knots on your sneakers," Buffy hinted. However it was an empty threat and they both knew it, no one would be doing any running that night. At least not from each other. "I suppose I should be thanking you."

_At last the main event._

"That so?" Spike mused and used the wall of the mausoleum to help pull himself back to his feet.

"Oh, don't get me wrong! Every fiber in me wants to strangle you until your head pops off but you held back on the Smilebook thing. Your choice in weapon? You went with the mildest of the pictures you snapped. The others would have been a lot more damaging. My friends would've wigged."

"They would've," Spike nodded and then his eyes sharpened. "They still could."

"So that's it then?" Buffy concluded. "Long as I have pictures of you pink and shirtless you keep holding the ones from last night?"

"We can't kill each other," Spike reminded her. "Least this way we can keep each other honest. No go breaking our little rules we signed off on. The day you show up waving your white flag I'll turn over the rest of the polaroid shots I've taken."

"That is never going to happen," Buffy said stubbornly.

"Never is a long time, pet, and unless I'm off my mark, last night left you a li'l peaked? You sure you're up to handling what I have in store?" Spike jabbed.

"It's my turn now, Spike," Buffy replied and lowered her voice menacingly. "And after what you pulled? There won't be anything funny or playful about it. I'm going to make you pay, Spike. By the time I'm through, you'll be begging me to end it."

"Yeah?" Spike said and smiled knowingly. "That what you tell Cardboard every night you spread your knees and – OW! Again with the nose?"

"How is it not broken by now?" Buffy wondered after she recovered her ready stance from the quick bop she'd nailed him with. "You carry magical nasal spray around?"

"Interestin' notion," Spike considered and looked on as Buffy turned to continue on with her patrol. "Think I'll sit tonight out then."

"Make it the rest of the week," Buffy called back. "I still have nightmares starring your bony ass."

"Kitty liked it then did she?" Spike teased, letting his tongue out to slide across his lips.

"My account password?" Buffy demanded and looked back at him over her shoulder.

"Swinging Moose!"

"What?" Buffy said and stopped in her tracks, her face scrunched up in confusion. "Where did you get that from?"

"You know that one thing in my video – with the kitchen light?"

"How is that even possi – oh my God! You're so disgusting!" Buffy balked and hurried out of the cemetery to the sound of Spike's dying laughter chasing after her.

_All too easy._

Spike chuckled and looked down at his sneakers with some disappointment. He had actually been looking forward to playing hide and go seek tonight. Turning his attention to the discarded cell phone, he picked it up and found it still functioning. He smiled at that, he really didn't want to have to go out and buy another one. He had already written down all of the names and numbers in Buffy's cell phone list and now he could spend the evening copying them over to this lovely piece of gadgetry she'd returned. Maybe when Finn got back he could sign soldier boy up to a few dozen callgirl agencies. Dozen or a hundred depending on how committed he would feel, come the time.

* * *

_Present..._

"Fairly certain this falls outside our bounds of reason clause," Spike muttered, his thoughts turning back to the rules they had agreed on ever since Buffy had started this war.

_So be it. That barmy slayer wants to take it to the next level, then that'll be her failing._

"Oi, goin' to need one big mop to sort this pisser out," he said quietly. The quicker he started, the quicker he could focus his attentions elsewhere – like retaliation.

_That's odd._

Spike turned his head and found his boots actually on top of the sarcophagus next to him. He could've sworn he'd pulled them off next to his chair, like most nights. Not about to question his good fortune Spike reached over and pulled one on and then the other. Not bothering to tie them Spike lifted his body up by the palms of his hands then rocked backwards before pushing himself off the sarcophagus and forward into the ankle deep water, it wasn't until his feet hit the water did he realize his mistake.

"Bloody 'ell!" Spike screamed in pain as boiling holy water erupted on both sides of his jean-clad trousers. Immediately he scrambled back to the safety of his bed. Crying in pain he looked down at his feet in panic. Thankfully his presence of mind to slip on his boots had spared his feet any serious harm. His ankles had taken some burns from the splash but nothing he couldn't overcome. Instead Spike took stock of his situation that left his eyes widening in horror as he began to fully comprehend exactly the predicament Buffy had left him in. "I'm gonna kill her," Spike growled as his eyes flashed amber in the darkness of his lair. "Tear out her spinal cord, drink from her brain stem, and throw a party with her lungs as balloons!"

In the meantime though, the vampire had other problems to deal with. Pivoting his head from one corner to the next Spike tried to figure out just how he was going to get out of this. All of his living quarter was flooded in holy water. His electrical appliances were in the clear but everything else would, like his clothes, become collateral damage. Granted most of his meager belongings were salvaged from Sunnydale's local dump but still, he put a lot of effort into making his home habitable. He had plans to expand it this summer, carving out a sub level below, but until this puddle was drained?

_If that bint's mum wasn't such a right lady I'd do more than flood her house!_

Wincing from his burns Spike examined one leg and then the other. His jeans and boots had shielded him from the brunt of the damage but he was still stranded. The pool floaty Buffy had left him, salt in an open wound, was far too small and would do him no good. Luckily the water wasn't deep enough to submerge the top step that led to the door of his crypt. If he could just make it there, then he would be home free – that was until he remembered that it was still in the middle of the afternoon with sunset hours away. Smart money was to wait until dark then make a move but Spike's temper and fear for his personal safety vetoed the notion as soon as it manifested. Instead, he gathered the blanket he had used for bedding atop of the sarcophagus' stone slab lid and prepared to make the dash from his crypt to his car. He'd have to leave his prized duster behind but once he reached the confines of his beloved DeSoto, he could grab a spare shirt.

Then he would pay a happy Fourth of July visit to a certain slayer. Warily eyeing the deceptively innocent-looking water, Spike's brain went into overdrive to plan a way out. If he moved quickly enough he could wall-run and jump off the side of the wall and land on the safety of the top step. Then it would be a matter of draping the blanket over him and stepping into the light of a deadly summer day.

_What a wonderfully fatal plan, Spike._

Rolling his eyes and promising vengeance against all bitches named Buffy, Spike bundled his blanket and took a moment to steel his nerves. It wasn't impossible. He could do this. Sucking in the breath he didn't need, Spike braced himself for the worst and half jumped half ran up the wall to his right. As soon as he felt himself losing momentum Spike pushed off with his legs, cleared the deadly pond, and landed solidly on the top step. No worse for wear, Spike laughed at the slayer's feeble attempt of revenge. Later on he would head to Willy's and see about hiring a couple of demons immune to holy water to pump the water out.

_Then, slayer, you are mine._

Reaching down he felt for the doorknob and moved to turn it only wrench his hand back and curse in pain.

"Bollocks!" Spike sneered as he examined his right palm, noticing the bright red burn that closely resembled the imprint of a crucifix had him groaning in frustration. Darting his head down he saw not one but three miniature crosses dangling from the knob. Running out of options Spike tightened his blanket around him and did a quick three count. On three he led with a mighty heave of his shoulder and checked the door open, breaking it free of its hinges beore stumbling outside into the bright sunlight. Despite the protection of the blanket, Spike still shrieked out in pain as the vampire rushed to the nearest offering of shade. Under the cover of a tree, his stormy blue eyes scanned in every which direction, searching for any other hint of a followup prank. By now it was very clear that neither he or Buffy would resort to something as simple as a one-trick revenge prank.

Still, after a full five minutes of scrying his surroundings, Spike found no further evidence of trickery and deemed himself safe, if only for the moment. Not to waste another second, he leap-frogged from cover to cover, inching closer and closer to the safety of his DeSoto. Rounding the corner of a clump of trees he was all but home when his eyes fell upon the car and what he saw made Spike's stomach drop.

_No..._

"Buffy loves Riley," Spike read behind clenched teeth as he took in the sight of his car's new custom paint job. "Pink again," he muttered. "Even the bloody tires!"

Snarling in disbelief Spike surveyed the car from his spot under the safety of mother nature's foliage. He could only see one side but that alone was bad enough.

"Xander says sucks to be you?" Spike squinted as he continued to read the sprawling lines of text Buffy had included. "The impotent one? Poor man's Angel!"

_My crypt..._

Spike set his jaw and rushed the last fifty feet to his car, throwing himself into the backseat.

_My ride..._

"Think yourself so clever, you bitch," Spike grumbled and sifted through his car's backlog of junk until he found his spare black tee. Smiling triumphantly he pulled it on then switched seats, climbing into the front. As he turned the ignition, Spike wasn't sure exactly what he would say when he saw her but he knew it would be to her regret. She had made her move and he had to admit, it was a very nice play. As always though, Buffy had underestimated Spike's resourcefulness and ability to think on his feet. Now it was her turn through the grinder and he would be nowhere near as gentle.

Just before he pulled out, Spike glanced on his dashboard and found a polaroid waiting for him. It must've been taken earlier that morning, while he was still passed out from last night's bender.

_Oh no._

With his car's new custom paint job in the background, Buffy stood proudly in the foreground with his prized duster draped over her shoulders. Her pose was eerily similar to what he had done with Angel's coat which he'd found in her closet. Spike had been in such a hurry to get out he hadn't even bothered looking for the duster to take with him. Only now did he realize the awful truth., Alongside a lipstick kiss pressed on the lower right corner, Buffy had written across the photo in the same lipstick.

"_Love the Leather! Buffy – XoXoXo"_

"Like leather do yah?" Spike snarled in outrage and pressed down on the gas pedal. "Keep it. I'll get me a new duster – I'll bloody well tan it from your hide!"

* * *

"Buffy," Joyce's voice called out from the kitchen doorway, causing Buffy to pause in her kata. Looking to the back porch door she saw her mom poke her head out and smile. "How many ears of corn did you want?"

"Eh, maybe three?" Buffy decided. "Mom you really don't need to prepare it all yourself. I can wrap my training up later."

"What and miss out on the fireworks tonight? Nice try, young lady. Still, three ears?" her mother questioned.

"Slayer metabolism," Buffy shrugged helplessly. "What time do we need to leave for LA?"

"In a couple more hours," her mother answered. "So grab a shower after dinner and-" A great cacophony of beeping from a car horn, a very familiar car horn, from the front interrupted Joyce and drew both women's attention. "Now what in the world?" the older Summers wondered and left her spot on the back porch to see what the fuss was in the front.

"Hehe," Buffy giggled and returned to her workout. "Now I wonder who that could be," she grinned mischievously.

"Oh," Buffy heard her mother say from inside the house. "She's back here, Spike."

"Oi! Slayer!"

_This is going to be good._

"Think you and I need to have a discussion 'bout our little bounds of reason – and your perpetual need to overstep it!"

"Come back later, Spike," Buffy singsonged. "Or never," she amended. "I'd be okay with never."

"Where's my leather?" Spike demanded from just inside the kitchen doorway, looking out at her across the yard as she stepped through the choreographed movements of the fight sequence. She had been working on it throughout the past hour, over a dozen times. While practicing the kata was good for muscle memory it was also important for balance and breathing. Alternating the tempo of the dance, her first four run-throughs began slowly – focusing on sticking every kick, every punch, every step and stance. Then it became about holding that composure but streamlining it. Making each move blend into the next. The key word was fluid while staying balanced and maintaining focus.

Sweat dribbled from her brow as she paced herself under the hot July sun. Gaining more confidence, she stepped up the pace. Instead of two steps forward and one step back Buffy only moved forward. The objective was to build up more and more. After the basics and graceful fluidity came power. No longer was it about going through the motions but ensuring that every strike, every block, every jump was focused with all of her strength behind it.

Buffy held her hands together the way she would grip a head and slammed them down onto her knee as she stepped through a simulated knee strike. Without stopping to regain her stance she moved forward. Her mind empty all Buffy heard was her breathing and the names of each move.

_Downward striking block, move your hips – your whole body, to block the kick and capture mister evil vampire's leg._

_Breathe in._

_Pull the leg in, make mister vampire stumble, twist around and roundhouse kick with ball of the foot extended to the mister vampire's head..._

_Breathe out._

_Turn and choke-block mister vampire number two's neck as he tries to bite me from behind. Focus grip on the neck and..._

_Breathe in._

_And knee strike to the nose, downward elbow strike to the back of the head, and then a headlock – stake him..._

_Breathe out._

"My leather!"

_Couldn't he have slept in just a little longer?_

"Basement!" Buffy instructed to the overly anxious vampire.

"Buffy, did you assassinate Spike's car?" Joyce demanded.

_So much for training._

"It's not like I popped his tires!" her daughter defended. "His TV and fridge are still good too. I made sure to unplug and store them safely before flooding his crypt. Nothing irreplaceable!"

"You flooded his crypt!"

_Oops._

* * *

"Thank you again for dinner, Joyce," Spike said from underneath his blanket in the jeep's backseat.

"Oh of course, Spike," Buffy's mother said warmly from the front seat as she drove the three to the fireworks display in LA. "Although I've never seen a hamburger eaten that rare before."

"Eew," Buffy groaned in disgust.

"There was so much blood."

"Actually no," Spike replied. "Butcher's drain nearly all the blood when it comes to slaughter. What you have instead is water mixed with a protein called myoglobin. May appear as blood, but just a trick of the light."

"Still very raw," Joyce insisted. "Although, it wasn't as if Buffy's father never had a blue steak."

"The ones in Frankfurt are particularly euphoric," Spike mentioned.

"Can we please talk about something besides blood, sex, and food?"

"When was the last time you saw fireworks, Spike?" Joyce asked, placating her daughter's wishes.

"Thank you," Buffy exclaimed in relief.

"I caught a show down in Tijuana a couple nights after our drink together last year, Joyce," Spike answered.

"Our drink together?"

"You had drinks with my mother!" Buffy shrieked.

"Oh you mean the chocolate! You're talking about Buffy's senior year, before she blew up the high school?"

_And there's a sentence every mother wishes she could say._

"And fine cuppa that was, Joyce," Spike smiled. "Loved those bitty marshmallows."

"Buffy, is everything okay?"

"My mother is talking to my mortal enemy about hot chocolate on the way to watch fireworks together," Buffy said detestably. "What part of this is okay?"

"How is Drusilla, Spike?"

"Oh God," Buffy muttered. "You had to ask."

"Well after I told yours where the Whel – er – Xander and Willow were I went back south. Got drunk in Mexico-way, sussed when I caught that show. And then-"

"And THEN," Buffy interrupted. "Sid here caught up with Nancy only for her to – big surprise – act like a total ho and jump some fungus thing."

"I thought it was a chaos demon?" Joyce frowned.

_So many demons!_

"No it was the chaos demon then the fungus demon," Buffy reminded cheerfully, clearly enjoying the chance to twist a knife into Spike by bringing up Drusilla's past transgressions.

"Actually no," Spike rebutted. "First it was Angel, and then then chaos and then-"

"Oh please!" Buffy huffed.

"Angel slept with Drusilla?" Joyce was shocked.

"No!" Buffy defended.

"Bloody right he did," Spike snapped. If she was going to make an effort to drag his love through the mud then Spike was going to make sure he took hers down with him. "I was stuck in a sodding wheelchair and the love of your life made every effort to stick it to the love of my life every chance he could get."

"Well this all sounds very complicated," Joyce remarked. "I'm glad Angel had the sense to finally leave you, Buffy."

"He wasn't Angel. He didn't have a soul, he was Angelus," Buffy said, excusing the other vampire for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"You mean like Spike?"

"Huh?"

"I am nothing like that poofter!" Spike declared.

"But you don't have a soul?" Joyce said, looking up into her rear view mirror to read Spike's expression only to see nothing but her backseat.

_Right, vampire._

"Spike is nothing like Angel," Buffy announced determinedly.

"Thank you," Spike said, relieved that someone else got it.

"So he's like Angelus?"

"That's even worse!" Spike cried.

"Kind of," Buffy hedged.

"No, not kind of! None of," Spike argued. "I helped you put that tosser in the ground."

"I'm confused," Joyce sighed.

"Welcome to my world," Buffy muttered as her fingers rubbed her brow in aggravation.

"At least this way you still get to see the fireworks," Joyce said, deciding to try and cheer Spike up. "I had no idea you were looking so forward to them this year."

"It's just been so long," Spike said over dramatically much to Buffy's chagrin.

"Yeah right," Buffy growled. "Your car is perfectly functional. Just because it's pink doesn't mean it won't drive."

"Which Buffy will make every effort to paint back to it's previous coat," Joyce said, giving her daughter a look that spoke volumes on how this was not up for debate.

"Oh think nothing of it, Joyce," Spike said sweetly as he watched Buffy squirm in discomfort from her spot in the passenger seat. Then a lightbulb suddenly went off above Spike's head. "In fact I am more concerned with the renovations to my crypt I've been planning."

"Oh?" Joyce pondered.

"What?" Buffy said in disbelief.

"I've been meaning to add a second level. A sub level. Some room for a bed and other creature comforts," Spike explained.

"Well that sounds very ambitious," Joyce remarked.

"Indeed, Joyce," Spike nodded. "Was thinking about hiring some local boys out to help me clear way. Lot of manual work. Money's tight though."

"Oh! Well Buffy's been looking for something to occupy her time with," Joyce suggested helpfully.

"No," Buffy whispered in horror at the designs beginning to take shape.

"Really?" Spike drawled playfully, desperately trying to keep from snickering. "I never would have imagined."

"No friggin' way!" Buffy said heatedly, glaring stakes at Spike.

"Honestly, Buffy," Joyce admonished. "What else do you have to do? Besides it's only fair since you flooded his crypt."

"He broke our window!"

"Which he paid for," Joyce reminded and looked back at Spike. "Thank you by the way. I've been meaning to get that window replaced for some time now. Your money was more than generous."

"Think nothing of it, mum," Spike smiled charmingly.

"Don't call her mom!"

"When did you plan on beginning renovations?" Joyce asked, overruling her daughter's stalwart objections.

"Two days," Spike replied quickly, seizing the opportunity.

"No," Buffy repeated.

"Buffy will swing by Sunday night to help," Joyce decided and directed her daughter with a pointed look. "It is the least she can do after all," Joyce continued, not taking her eyes off of Buffy. "Even more so since you've been helping my daughter with her vampire slaying this summer."

"How did you know that?" Buffy gawked.

"I was concerned about you patrolling alone this summer and had a conversation with Mister Giles. He assured me that it was in Spike's interests to keep an eye out for you during your rounds," Joyce explained.

"He helps because he gets off on it!" Buffy wailed. "And hello? Training! Like I was doing only hours ago! Before Mister July here crashed the party."

"So what else have you been up to this summer, Spike?" Joyce asked, her mind made up on the matter.

"You might say I've been expanding my wardrobe," he said slyly.

"Oh, where do you shop?"

Buffy groaned.

* * *

"Oh! I forgot the wine coolers," Joyce exclaimed. Several roads leading into the Angeles National Forest were closed off to avoid congested holiday travel. While a bit off the beaten path, the national forest that overlooked the greater San Gabriel Valley offered a spectacular view of most of Western Los Angeles and to the Pacific Ocean beyond. While it was semi-secluded, it was still the summer holiday and there was a laundry load of other visitors jockeying for places to see the night's fireworks display, miles off in the distance.

"I'll go back for it mom," Buffy pleaded as much as offered.

_Please! Anything to give me a break from him!_

"Buffy, you and Spike are already carrying the blanket and folding chairs. Go on ahead, I'll meet up with you afterward."

"I don't know so much, Joyce," Spike replied, a surprising dissenter Buffy realized. Ever since he'd shown up at her house, he had gone out of his way to be a pain in her ass. First crashing their dinner and now their outing to LA to see the spectacular fireworks display. "It's crowdin' somethin' fierce an' my nose can better track my way back to you."

"Yes!" Buffy jumped, for once not grossed out that Spike could smell everything from her hair conditioner to – er?

_Scratch that – always gross!_

"Thank you, Spike, I appreciate the offer but I'd rather you use that nose to find us someplace nice and free from too many others. Besides," Joyce added and waved her cell phone at them. "I'll call Buffy's cell and she can direct me to you. Nice and easy. See you soon kids!"

"He's twice the age of you and me combined!" Buffy yelled after her mother's retreating back. When her mother only grew smaller in the distance Buffy turned her eyes back to her distasteful holiday companion, shaking her head ruefully. "You must be loving this."

"I'm like a fine wine, Slayer. Better with age," Spike teased and shifted his grip on the two chairs he was carrying. With a "come hither" wink he led Buffy further up the trail, passing by several other couples and families who had come to the overlook. The sun was setting but luckily for Spike there was enough shade from the surrounding forest that he could stick to indirect sunlight. Ever since the afternoon, the entire city sky had been exploding with every color imaginable and since then the city-wide display had only increased in its intensity.

The pair continued their trek in silence. They had gone a good half mile from where they parked their car and were in the thick of the festivities. Watching people laugh and enjoy time spent with family and friends left Buffy feeling hollow. She was thrilled to be here with her mom but she missed her friends. She missed Riley and wondered what he was doing right now. Apparently he saw the fireworks yesterday with his family and friends from his hometown. Old faces from Hemery filtered into her mind as she recalled the time before being called. Life was so much simpler and not for the first time she wondered where she would have ended up had destiny not come knocking.

_Definitely wouldn't be strolling through the woods with the bane of my existence. What was I thinking of spending my summer like this?_

"Penny for your thoughts, Slayer?" Spike questioned once they were past the majority of the crowd.

"Oh just the usual," Buffy chimed with false sweetness.

"Ah," Spike smirked. "Wishing you were with anyone but little old me?"

"Nothing about you is little, Spike," Buffy fired back. She managed three steps before stumbling as her brain fell into the gutter. "I can't believe I just said that."

"Well you would know," Spike reminded and once more Buffy's mind replayed the highlight reel from his tape.

"Seriously though," she said, still astonished. "How is that even possible? And your hands! Were they always that bendy?"

"All the better to crush your skull in," he quipped.

"Pretty sure that line line was left out of Riding Hood. Remember? It goes 'the better to know you?'"

"Hmm," Spike considered as they moved past a small clump of trees. "Well I do know you," he reiterated.

"Unfortunately," Buffy commented dryly. "Cracking my password and hijacking my webpage sealed away any remaining doubts."

"All the better to drain you dry," Spike tried again.

"Better," Buffy agreed.

_There! Death threats and promises of violence. So much easier to deal with him like this._

"Have to lend yah some credit though. Props on the prank," Spike said suddenly, catching Buffy off guard. "Handed me my proper comeuppance what with the flooding then booby trapping my doorknob. Top it off with the horror you did to my wheels. Not bad."

_So much for easier._

"You had it coming," Buffy said, thinking back on how he scarred her mind with sights and sounds of Spike naked-goodness.

_Wait? Naked-goodness? No! No! Bad! Naked Spike equals disgusting-goodness! Er – disgusting! Disgusting undead and not in anyway good or yummy. Yummy? Stupid vampire. I hate you._

"Have I mentioned I hate you yet?" Buffy asked.

"You hate me and I hate you," Spike responded without hesitation as his eyes narrowed, at last spying what his nose had been seeking. "Over there," her nemesis gestured and Buffy's eyes focused on a small patch of open ground underneath a trio of conifers. Fireworks purchased from private vendors continued to shoot up into the open valley air stretching out several miles below them as the sun finally dipped below the ocean's horizon. After setting up their chairs the two enemies settled in to enjoy the night's wondrous display opening up before them.

It wasn't long before Spike was absorbed in the spectacle but for Buffy it wasn't as easy. She should have been grateful. Ever since his annoying presence had shown up hours ago all she had wanted was for him to shut his yammering mouth. It was one thing to be bantering with him back and forth during patrol or staking out a demon nest in his rolling disaster of a car. There was always a way out. She could always ditch him or make him drive her home. Her mom wasn't around. Without her there, Buffy didn't need to watch what she had to say or worry about Spike's evil charms working overtime on her mom, distracting her and making her forget what was really behind that pretty boy face of his. So then why was this silence so unbearable? She sighed and shook her head.

_You know why, Summers. So just get it over with already._

"I hate you," she began slowly, choosing her words carefully.

"Established that already, pet. Doubled down with jokers wild."

"Shut up," Buffy grumbled and her brow furrowed in thought. "I'm trying to say something."

"My, my, that is a challenge," Spike jibed.

"If you're going to be a jerk then forget it!" Buffy spat, folded her arms, and returned her attention to the fireworks.

"Jeez, Summers," Spike snorted and lifted his hands up in surrender. "Hot n'cold you are. Ever consider your maybe you're bipolar?"

"Yes actually," Buffy smiled knowingly. "But given your tendencies to make impulsive decisions and unrealistic ideas about the future, I think you are way more manic-depressive than I could ever be." When she saw how his jaw had dropped and eyes go wide in surprise Buffy giggled, happy to beat Spike at his own game. At his continued speechlessness she decided to take pity on him. "I studied psychology; remember, blood-breath? When I was learning about mental disorders the first thing I would always do is match up symptoms to my own behaviors."

"Everybody does that," Spike said indifferently but at last closed his gaping mouth. "And I happen to be ADHD for you information, Slayer."

"An eternity of acting on impulse," Buffy thought aloud and tried to imagine what that was like. "Wow that would be paradise," she said sarcastically.

"I wouldn't get so high and mighty, Summers," Spike retorted. "You're hardly the picture of mental health yourself. Freud would love to get his scope down that noggin."

"Maybe," Buffy begrudgingly admitted. "But then I have an early expiration date," she deferred with a helpless shrug. "Therapy doesn't work when you're dead."

"Cocked up company you are tonight," Spike rolled his eyes and turned his head away from her for a moment.

"Huh?"

"What was it you were prattling on about?" Spike asked, whipping his head back around and looking at her with a quizzical tilt.

"Again with the huh?" Buffy said, looking at him in confusion.

"Earlier," Spike clarified. "The whole somethin' you needed to tell me 'bout."

"Oh," Buffy said and Spike saw her get that deep thinking look in her eyes again. "You know what? Forget it. It's nothing."

"Suits me, Slayer," Spike replied with a disinterested shrug. The two returned their attention to the fireworks. The main show that would take place over the distant beach had yet to begin but the neighborhood displays were still going strong. Spike's question hung heavy in the air as the silence drew on.

"I hate you," Buffy said, beginning the speech again. When Spike scoffed and opened his mouth Buffy gave him _the look_ that promptly shut him up. "I hate you. I hate you so much, but sometimes you aren't all that bad."

"Wow," Spike drawled wryly once he picked up that that was the extent of her confession. "That was a mouthful. Been working on that speech long have you?"

"Well what did you expect, Spike? You tried to kill me how many times? Then when we had our truce you went ahead and sold us out to Adam-"

"Hey," Spike interrupted. "What can I say? The guy knows his audience. Promised me a blessed chipectomy . What would you be willing to do if you lost your powers?"

"I'm nineteen, Spike," Buffy said and looked to him expectantly. When he only continued to stare at her Buffy sighed and shook her head. "Some 'Slayer of Slayers' you are."

"Nineteen?" Spike frowned and gave her words further thought. Buffy watched as the gears churned inside his head and sure enough it came to him. "Council of wankers."

"That they are," Buffy affirmed.

"The Cruciamentum," Spike nodded and scratched the back of his neck. "Surprised they didn't ask me to do you in."

"Would you have?" Buffy asked, narrowing her eyes as she studied him closely. She watched him give it some thought, which all but answered her question. "Of course you would," she said with the utmost of scorn.

"What? And gift those gits a show?" Spike shook his head in disgust, drawing a surprised look from Buffy. "What?"

"So then, what was Halloween?" she challenged.

"Bloody 'ell, woman. Do you ever let go? If you recall, I was tryin' to save Dru's life? Getting you out of the way became a priority. How far would you go if it was Angel's life on the line?"

_Hate it when he does that!_

Of course Spike saw right through her and she saw him open that big annoying trap of his to take his shot – only he didn't. Buffy waited and then waited some more. He had her dead to rights but it sure seemed like he was taking his sweet time.

"Well?" she demanded.

"I think," Spike began and suddenly found his black painted fingernails very interesting. "Sometimes you aren't so bad."

"Oh," Buffy said quietly.

_That was not expected._

"Yeah."

The two fell into another lapse of silence, only not nearly as uncomfortable as before. Each lost in their own thoughts, the quiet was broken only when Buffy's cell phone rang, her mother looking for them. It was dark and crowded so Spike left to go find her and then escorted her back. It was so natural that Buffy didn't comment or question his motives. When he returned, her mother's arm in his, there was no more talk about their past or their antagonistic relationship. Instead they broke into an almost pleasant conversation with Joyce mediating when needed.

When the show at last began the three looked on in peaceful silence and when it ended Spike had only one thing to say.

"Happy Fourth, Slayer."

Buffy couldn't help it, she smiled.

"You too, Vampire."

_Maybe tonight wasn't so bad after all._

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Appreciation: A big special thank you goes out to the story's beta, All4Spike. A talented writer in her own right please a big welcome for her and much appreciation for her assistance

-S


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the franchise's characters, places, etc. I am not making a profit from this work other than the joy I take in writing it.

Previously: While humiliating and painful for Spike, Buffy's latest prank was not without some unexpected fallout. Surprised by her daughter's display of excessive aggression Joyce invited Spike to spend the Fourth of July holiday with her family. On top of that, she also tasked her daughter to help Spike with his crypt renovations. What other unexpected fallout might occur as Buffy and Spike keep spending time together?

**DEATH'S EMBRACE**

Traffic northbound on the 101 finally cleared up once they made it past Thousand Oaks and for Buffy it couldn't have come soon enough. With her tired mother asleep in the back and Spike at the wheel next to her, she was feeling a tiny bit anxious, though not so much because of the person in charge of their car. Contrary to what Buffy might have believed months ago, she was very confident in Spike's ability to drive. She was more uncertain though of the several dozen other drivers on the road. Thankfully, Spike threaded the needle and carefully maneuvered her mother's jeep past more than a few automobiles whose drivers were sloppily having trouble staying in their own lane. A police checkpoint, forty minutes back, had managed to arrest several intoxicated drivers. If only there were a few more checkpoints, there was need for them. It was true that she didn't have the best history when it came to dealing with law enforcement but in a situation such as this she was grateful for any presence they could provide.

Earlier in the day, Buffy had been all for going to the fireworks show without her bleached nemesis. So much so that she had cursed her mother silently for what she considered to be dangerously misguided feelings towards the vampire. However with her mother tired, coupled with her own non-existent driving skills, Buffy was very much relieved to have Spike sitting a few feet away. Past two am on a very active freeway with some questionable drivers? The words relieved and appreciative had come to associate themselves with him, not that she would ever admit it openly. His ego was big enough already.

_Did I seriously just refer to Spike as responsible? Come on! I only had two wine coolers – ugh!_

"Can you tell if a person is drunk?" Buffy asked.

"Uh," Spike replied and scratched the back of his head.

Watching his expressions and the way he sent her those furtive glances had Buffy hiding a small smile. Despite Spike's ability to school his various expressions when needed, more often than not the man wore his heart on his sleeve. Currently his demeanor was telling Buffy that her out of the blue question had left him wondering.

"Uh yeah," Spike said at last. "At least when you bite into them and get a taste. Great way to skip out on a bar tab." Seeing Buffy's eye roll and disgusted look, Spike scoffed. "Right, forbid me tellin' ya any truth that might twist and poke that chronic stick up your arse." Spike shook his head and did his own eye roll to reinforce his statement but then tilted his head to the right, an idea coming to him. An idea that had him running his tongue over the lower lip in what Buffy would label as perv-seduction number five. "Chronic stick syndrome," Spike said, giving voice to his thoughts. "There yah go, Summers. Free of charge, Doctor Spike has determined your diagnosis. And for the prescription? Dump soldier boy, get drunk, and have some wild monkey sex."

"Spike?" Buffy looked at him and shook her head. "I don't even know where to start with that."

"Indeed, another classic symptom of CSS."

"Haha very funny, Fetus," Buffy said and gave him one of her own smug looks. "I meant without the disgusting blood-suckage. Can you tell if a person is drunk?"

"Don't need vamp senses if your close enough to somebody sloshed," Spike answered and shot her one of his patented are-you-really-that-stupid look. He turned his attention back to the road but not without a parting shot. "That was are-you-really-that-stupid look number four, Goldilocks. Not as bad a number five but exponentially worse than a three."

"As a future reminder, Undead Britannica? I'm punching you in the nose as soon as we're back," Buffy informed him. Judging by the way she was squeezing her fists Spike was under no illusion that she wouldn't follow through on her promise of violence.

"You keep tappin' my love-button, luv," Spike smirked wickedly while glancing at her out of the corner of his baby blues. The way his eyes flickered from the varying degree of ambient light sources drew her in. "There somethin' you want to get off your chest, Slayer?"

Shaking her head to break his naturally enchanting spell over her, Buffy lifted her brow and rolled the eyes. "Are you on a one-track mind tonight?" she asked.

"What ever could you mean, pet?" Spike replied, fluttering his eyes innocently.

"Hmph," Buffy said and narrowed her eyes. She knew that he knew that he was getting to her, which was his goal all along; he prided himself on it. His need to to reach out and poke everything he could get his hands on was hardwired into him moreso than even the chip. In Buffy's case it was the metaphorical elevator panel. Packed with buttons each one symbolized a weakness that could be exploited. Knowing her as only an enemy could Spike had that ability to get inside her head and press button after button at his leisure. For Buffy, there would only ever be one response.

Her lips curled into a knowing grin of her own, which soon led to him going on the defensive. Without a word said they both knew that the tables had been turned and Buffy enjoyed the way his grimacing face betrayed his earlier confidence. "I'm sorry, did I say one-track mind? I meant you're thinking with only one mind," Buffy commented.

"That just didn't make a lick of sense, Slayer," Spike replied.

"Really? I guess it would be in your case, undead and everything. I don't know what you were like as a human but since I met you, you've only thought with one mind," Buffy said. Despite her attempts at subtlety hinting Spike's face only grew more incredulous. "Seriously?" Buffy asked. "How can you still not get that?"

"Well according to you I only think with 'one mind,'" Spike shot back.

"Wow," Buffy deadpanned. Drumming her fingertips over the dashboard she didn't know how else to explain it to him – besides being overly blatant. "You know what? I take that back. You have no brain in either head. Not the one below, and certainly not the one above."

"Above and – wait. That's the quip you were trying to make? The bleedin' IQ between my bits and bots?"

"Bits and 'bots?' That's not even a word," Buffy exclaimed.

"It is so," Spike argued. "It's a British word. Just because you are lacking a real English vocabulary doesn't make your American gibberish the authority on proper English."

"'It's a British word,'" Buffy mimicked and held her hands up in the air to make finger-quotations. "Do you have any idea the number of times you've used that go-to-excuse?"

"Well, well, what's this then?" Spike teased. Once more he rolled his deliciously pink tongue over his teeth, his eyes shimmering in mirth. That last quip was supposed to be Buffy's 'gotcha!' punch. Instead the only one getting wound up was the slayer herself. "Gettin' hot 'n bothered over a little wordplay, luv? Heh, if I'd known it were that easy, I'd have thrown a book of poetry at yah years ago."

"You with a poetry book," Buffy thought aloud. "Didn't realize it was apocalypse-season already."

"Uh – well? You never can know, luv," Spike hinted. "Still waters can run quite deep."

"Please, Spike," Buffy admonished. "Like any part of you is deep? That's so sad it's not even funny."

_Doesn't mean I won't laugh though._

The sound of Buffy's laughter effected a change in him. Boyish smile and all traces of amusement faded from sight to be replaced by restrained anger. Eyes closed to keep from crying in hysterics Buffy missed this change in his outward appearance. Spike kept his eyes on the road and did his best to ignore the cruel reaction, faultless as it was.

When Buffy realized she was the only one laughing and that Spike looked to be disinterested, she decided to let it go.

She attempted a few more conversation starters but aside from a few one word responses, nothing ever came from them. Despite their earlier success at holding a semi-enjoyable conversation, Spike had fallen to the moody side. Not to let him drag her down she instead switched on the radio. Keeping the volume low so as not to wake her mother, Buffy surfed through the different channels until she found a song she recognized from her mixed tape she carried while patrolling.

"It's been one week since you looked at me," Buffy quietly sang along as one of the Barenaked Ladies' well known ballads flowed out from the speakers. "Cocked your head to the side and said I'm angry," she continued. Lost in her own thoughts she missed the way Spike's ears suddenly perked.

The traffic lessened, Buffy's lips moved to the song, and the mountain road opened up to reveal ocean waves crashing along the rocky Californian coast. The way the moon and stars shone out across the rolling waves grabbed at her attention. Losing interest in the song, Buffy strained her neck past Spike's shoulders to gaze at the postmark quality vista. Unable to get a good view she was just about to give up on it when suddenly Spike hit the blinker and accelerated into the left lane along the guardrail. Eyes on the road, he adjusted his seat back and in moments Buffy's eyes were taking in the entire coast. So breathtaking was the sight before her, it took a full ten seconds before she realized how sensitive Spike had just been.

"Umm," she hesitated and looked to Spike in question. She was unsure of what to think about this uncharacteristic act of thoughtfulness, then the vampire only floored her further when he picked up where she had left off.

"How can I help it if I think you're funny when you're mad?" Spike sang. "Tryin' hard not to smile though I feel bad. I'm the kind of guy who laughs at a – funeral?" Off of Buffy's incredulous jaw-dropping look Spike grinned broadly. "You only listen to it nonstop on patrols," he explained and tapped on his ears. He mouthed the word 'vampire,' reminding her of his supernaturally enhanced senses.

"Oh," Buffy realized and scratched the back of her head. So much of this night had been unexpected for her. How would she look back on it Buffy couldn't even begin to imagine. She did know she was enjoying herself, so much so that she was beginning to suspect that a spell was involved. However even if that was the case, she found herself pushing such thoughts aside. At that moment, the last thing Buffy wanted was for the magic to end.

_He does have a nice voice._

"I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve," Spike sung. Noticing the pleasant smile Buffy was wearing Spike smiled and tossed her a mischievous wink. "I have a history of taking off my shirt."

She leaned back into her seat and closed her eyes. The vampire slayer was out for the rest of the night. In the meantime Buffy Summers relaxed her shoulders and allowed herself to be charmed by the sound of his voice, if only for the night.

* * *

"About time," Spike 'greeted' when Buffy found her way to his crypt. As had become customary for their nightly rendezvous, the vampire was sitting perched atop his crypt with legs dangling off the side. Curls of smoke drifted from a half smoked cigarette between his lips. His voice was dripping with snarkiness. "Expected you over an hour ago."

It was half past eleven and while she had agreed to meet up earlier, there had been a few unexpected risers in a cemetery across town. "Yeah well, new bloods don't come with alarm clocks," Buffy replied, reminding him that her calling came before all else – the least of which helping a mortal enemy with summer redecoration. "You're lucky I came at all."

"Oh really," Spike contended and pushed himself off the top. Knees bent, he landed cat-like on the balls of his feet. Despite his penchant for brawling, Spike came with an abundance amount of grace in his steps. In another life, Buffy could easily imagine him as a dancer. Eyes up, blue found green as Spike raised his eyebrows and looked at her in amusement. "You'd rather pump out my crypt than knock down some walls?"

"I'm not going to pump anything of yours," Buffy denounced and fixed Spike with a look of annoyance at his latest antics. If it bothered him he didn't show it. If anything, his look of amusement turned dirty. "So where is everything?" Buffy asked, not willing to follow Spike around whatever train of thought currently coursed inside him. Peeking inside the crypt, she found that all of his furniture and appliances were still resting where they'd always been. She'd never renovated a crypt before but Buffy was fairly certain that it involved clearing out some space so that no nearby furniture would be contaminated, damaged, or destroyed in the process. His crypt appeared as always, with no effort having been made to allocate a specific excavation center. Neither were there any generators, jackhammers, drills, or even a shovel in sight. "Okay," she said after her cursory survey. "You do know that digging out a basement requires actual digging?"

Spike gave her a knowing grin fully expecting that question. "There is more than one way to skin a kitten, luv. All it takes is a little ingenuity," Spike teased. With a doubtful look Buffy waited expectantly and saw Spike lean down next to a tombstone. Grabbing hold of what looked to be rolls of blueprints, he nodded for her to follow him.

"What are those?"

"Sewer schematics from last year," Spike answered. Unrolling one, he pointed out to her one sewer line in particular. "Some months ago I discovered that there's a line that runs parallel to my crypt. Having access to the tunnels during daylight? Very lovely. Also a second level, a hidden second level, gives me a place to hide should any unwanted visitors come a-calling."

"You do realize that telling me this is counterproductive," Buffy interjected as she peered at the sewer plan. "We may patrol together but don't expect me not to come a-knockin' if I feel you know something. And when I mean knocking I mean your nose, not your door."

"Wasn't referring to your particular brand of social skills, Slayer," Spike replied and abruptly pulled the schematics away. Busying himself by rolling it back up he kept his eyes averted. "Was referring to your sweetie-pie and his mates' tendencies to strut in, toss my digs, and destroy my telly. Weren't for an accommodating skeleton, I'd be a Kansas song by now."

"Wayward Sons?" Buffy frowned, the reference lost on her.

"Dust in the Wind," Spike clarified. "Well innit that something. Didn't think you would take to the classics."

"I like a lot of things," Buffy shrugged. Making an exaggeration to point at her wrist watch, she continued. "I don't have all night, Spike."

"Right, come along then," he beckoned. As she fall in step beside him, Spike led her to a nearby grate which provided sewer access. Two minutes later and Spike was closing the grate behind them as they delved into the darkness.

"Great," Buffy muttered as she squinted her eyes to see in the dark. "Alone underground with a vampire at night. Would it have killed yah to let me know we would be working in the sewer? The least you could have done was bring a flashlight."

"Take the torch then," Spike said and pulled a small flashlight from inside his duster. "Stick close. Bit of a hike," he added after he passed it on to her. Buffy flipped the switch on the light and followed him in deeper.

"You know your way around," Buffy commented as Spike effortlessly led them through a seemingly endless maze. Spike just grunted and continued to lead on. Five minutes became ten and ten twenty and after a while everything looked to be the same. Finally she had had enough. "Okay, I take what I said earlier back. Do you have any idea where we are? How far is it to the renovation site?"

"Only some fifty feet," Spike answered and gestured back down the tunnel they had come out of. At Buffy's incredulous look the vampire broke down into laughter. "Truth told I've been leading you around in one big circle for the past ten minutes."

"Are you for real?" Buffy gawked.

"Was wonderin' how long it would take for you to suss it out," he explained and got control over his excitement.

"And if I didn't?" Buffy demanded.

"Would've kept circling," Spike said. The expression on Buffy's face was priceless and once more Spike was giggling.

"This?" Buffy said and waved the flashlight around. "Is not over," Buffy finished and walked back through the tunnel they had came through. When she noticed no one was following her Buffy swung her head around looked to him expectantly.

"Yeah I was still messing with yah," Spike teased. "It's actually fifty feet that way," he said and indicated the direction behind him. The same direction they had been walking towards when she first stopped and demanded to know where they were heading.

Growling something about pipe organs needing pointier wood, Buffy switched direction and kept up a brisk pace. From Spike's point of view it looked as if she would walk straight past, however when she got to within a foot she took her left elbow and jabbed it into Spike's ribs. Drawing a yelp from the vampire Buffy tossed her hair over the shoulder and smiled as she continued on.

"Here?" Buffy asked as she found a small passageway leading to an out of the way alcove. Catching up to her, Spike nodded and followed her in. When her flashlight cut across the floor of the alcove, she found the tools and equipment she had looked for earlier back at his crypt. "You've been busy. Where did you get all of this?"

"Liberated it from this company in LA," Spike explained. His pinkish tongue rolling across his upper lip was all she needed to tell her just how guilty he felt over it. His dancing eyebrows and bragging tone of voice only reinforced Buffy's conjecture.

"You mean you stole it," Buffy accused.

"Not exactly," Spike grinned and stretched his neck . "Got a mate who works there. Lent it to moi for a few days between jobs."

"Oh," Buffy said. She had had high doubts that he would even be inclined to try and do this project legally. Semi-legally was perhaps the better term as the idea of a British guy with no ID would have no chance of obtaining a permit.

"Mm-hmm," Spike said, not dropping that boyish grin of his for a moment. Lifting the portable generator, he hefted it up and walked it out through the passageway and into the main sewer. Following his lead, Buffy took hold of a jackhammer and two coiled power cords before following after. "Need to clear that bit of alcove there," Spike explained. "Once everything is out of the way, I'll set the dynamite."

"I'm sorry?" Buffy exclaimed. His words had frozen her in her steps and left her mind reeling at the idea of Spike in control of anything that went boom. "Mind repeating that for me? Were you saying something about your disgusting 'appetite' because I know you did not just say anything including the word 'dynamite!'"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Slayer," Spike scoffed as he bent down to open up a small box which Buffy hadn't noticed until then. She shone her flashlight on it and her eyes shot open when she saw 'US Army' written across it. "I know all about explosives." His 'trust me' wink did nothing to help her skepticism.

"You broke back into the Initiative?" Buffy gawked.

"That closed down dump? Course not, Slayer. I wouldn't trust abandoned explosives down there, who knows what shape its in? No, no – I ripped this off the local military base."

"You broke into an active army base and stole their dynamite!" Buffy closed her eyes and rubbed her brow, wondering why she would expect anything else from him.

"Well yeah," Spike replied. Leaving a sputtering Buffy behind, he reentered the alcove and pushed a measured stick of dynamite into a drill hole. The charge set, Spike found his way back out to the sight of a very jittery vampire slayer. "Can't exactly return used up dynamite, yeah?"

"You do know what you are doing?" Buffy questioned. Warily her eyes shifted between the vampire and the seemingly innocent looking hole in the wall.

"Course, pet. Been around dozens of wars in my day," Spike assured as the pair left the alcove and retreated back into the side tunnel. Spike braced himself against the wall and Buffy took up position next to him but by the look on her face he had a long way to go in reassuring her. "What? It's the truth," Spike said defensively.

"You went to battlefields to feed on dead people!"

"No, we never fed on dead people. Fed on the dying. Blood's still nice and hot. Now stop fussin', Slayer. I'm a quick study when it comes to this stuff," Spike said and looked over the detonator in his hand. He thought it best not to mention he'd never actually examined the trigger until a couple of hours ago. Were she to know that, it was likely Buffy would only think him more incompetent.

"Quick study? Tell me, Spike, what the hell do you know about bombs?" Buffy demanded, which only strengthened his thoughts on the slayer's uncertainties.

"I'll have you know I've fixed up plenty of molotov cocktails in my day," Spike said proudly. Puffing up his chest, he then began to knock his fists together in eager anticipation. "I also watched a documentary."

"That's booze!" Buffy cried, her feelings about this 'renovation' dropping from bad to worse.

"And a documentary!" Spike said and held up a finger to punctuate the movie's importance. With detonator in his fingers, he placed palms over his ears so as to muffle the coming explosion's impact on his hearing. Its roar would deafen his vampire senses exponentially more than they would Buffy's. The two exchanged a look. His look was of a fiendish smile brimming with unabashed glee. Hers was two thirds of struggling nerves and aggravation towards the hundred year plus vampire's infuriating penchant for adolescent chaos. The other third was her own character's fiendish delight, which nearly matched his own. This last part was hidden by a well worn glower of disdain for him. The last thing she wanted was for Spike to see just how helplessly seduced she was by the night's adventure and wickedly delightful exhilaration.

"If we die? I'll be making a pit stop at hell to kick your pale scrawny ass!" Buffy said, speaking loudly enough for him to hear her despite his covered ears.

"Really, Slayer?" Spike sighed. Shaking his head, his eyes found hers and glinted enticingly. "Let's just get it over and shag already!" His outlandish proposal dropped her jaw and her hands from her ears as she stared at him in shock. "Fire in the rubble!" Spike announced, before she could even begin to fathom an appropriate response.

His partner in destruction only barely got her hands over her ears in time as the dynamite detonated. The sewer tunnel shook and vibrated dangerously as the shock wave from the explosion nearly lifted Buffy off her feet, twisting her around. The only thing that kept the young woman from sprawling completely from the sudden blast was the feeling of two dead arms wrapping around her protectively.

His hands no longer over his ears, Spike grunted as the noise nearly ruptured his ear drums. She instinctively returned his embrace as he held her body flush against him. The feel of his duster cocooning her as it flapped uncontrollably from the concussive force, left Buffy feeling intrinsically safe and protected from the surging whirlwind of chaos threatening to engulf them in its wake.

The quake continued for an additional few seconds during which Buffy tightened her grip around his waist. He was her anchor and through the storm, she held pulled him closer. For all of her strength, earthquakes would always cause dreaded memories to resurface. The thought of being ripped free from his strong arms and calming presence scared her. At any moment the tunnel could collapse and the last thing she wanted was to be trapped alone. Alone and in the dark. When she felt his hand rub soothing circles over her back, Buffy closed her eyes and tried to forget that the person saving her from insanity was someone she was supposed to hate with all of her being.

As the situation began to stabilize and that the tunnel had held through the worst of it, Buffy allowed herself to exhale the breath she had been holding. With her heart pounding in a staccato rhythm that made her feel each and every pump, she focused on finding her center. This was much easier said than done when every beat of her heart left her chest feeling as if it would explode from the warring pressures inside. Thankfully, with Spike she didn't need to worry about holding on too tight. He was a pillar of strength that wouldn't buckle, no matter how tightly she held him.

Her face pressing into his black on black ensemble, when she breathed it was to the familiar and comfortable signatures of whiskey, cigarettes, and something else she couldn't quite put a name to. She felt his body tense and when she lifted her head, she saw lips moving but no words coming. Realizing that the explosion had done more than bruise her ribs from the concussive force of the blast, a sudden chill rushed took hold of her core. When she took in the look on Spike's face she saw that he was just as worried.

Whatever she was feeling, it was worse for the vampire she held. At the time when Buffy fell, there was no telling if the tunnel and everything above would come crumbling down. Sensibly Spike had risked his own safety to keep her close. Together, they'dhad a better chance of survival. That, and if she'd been killed, there would be no saving him from the wrath of the Scoobies, not to mention a pissed off slayer mama. The woman could wield an ax with the best of them.

The danger over, their senses returned and a race to get as far away as possible from the other began. A person looking on, who had no idea of the context, would think that Buffy and Spike were putting him or her on. Perhaps if they would have been able to hear one another, they would have had a more graceful technique of separating. But wishes weren't horses and a contest of pulling, pushing, and soundless yells erupted as they jockeyed for control of the situation.

After the initial scuffle, Spike had lost his footing at the same time as Buffy attempted to pull herself free. Together they lost their balance and fell to the concrete floor of the sewer. While painful, and otherwise embarrassing, the fall did manage to separate their tangled limbs and allow the two enemies some much needed space. Getting to her feet, Buffy looked herself over, checking for any significant injury, while Spike did likewise opposite. Satisfied, their heads turned and the glaring began, followed shortly by the yelling. The fact the neither could actually hear the other seemed to make no difference.

"_See? Look what you did!" _Buffy yelled, though neither heard the words she spoke.

"_What? I did?" _Spike said, his face incredulous._ "You're the one who got all up and personal. If I knew you were that tightly wound, I would've arranged you some personal entertainment!"_

"_You did not just say what I think you said! Did you?"_

"_I said you needed to get laid, Slayer."_

"_I have a boyfriend! I've had one for an entire year!"_

"_Yea! And his failure to seal the deal shows!"_

Buffy's fist shot out and clocked Spike on the chin. Her blow wasn't at full strength but it still packed enough punch to inform the vampire that that part of her life was off limits.

"_It was your stupid plan to begin with!"_ Buffy threw back at him. _"And what do you know? Another Spike plan didn't 'seal the deal.' You're pathetic. You're – what the hell are you doing?"_ Spike's arms and hands were a blur as they worked to create a flow of hand gestures Buffy couldn't even begin to figure out. _"Since when do you know sign language?" _Buffy demanded. His smirk was all the answer he provided. _"That is so not fair!"_

"_Fair? Slayer, you do realize that even though we can't hear each other we can read one another perfectly! In what fucked up world does that make sense? _Your world, Slayer! My unlife was fine until – I can hear myself!" Spike exclaimed.

"Me too!" Buffy said, breathing a sigh of relief. Her ears were still ringing and her hearing was muddled yet it was a welcoming sign. No longer worrying over permanent hearing loss, Buffy took stock of their situation. Moving past him, she eyed the side passageway that led to the alcove where the charges had been set. The results were promising. Forging ahead into the rubble-filled room, she picked up one large hundred pound piece of rock and looked to Spike expectantly. "Well? Where are we putting the leftovers?"

Spike smiled.

* * *

"Bloody 'ell, what's takin' ya wankers so long?" Spike demanded into the payphone. He had been waiting outside one of Sunnydale's local furniture stores for the past twenty minutes and the demon he had hired to help him with the night's grand larceny had yet to make an appearance. A long string of guttural speech came back back over the phone's speaker. Groaning in frustration Spike ran his hand through the curls he hadn't had a chance to tame before he left his crypt. "Put Stiles on!" Spike ordered. More guttural speak in demon tongue came back over the line. "No. No! No, you stupid git! You don't understand me. You bloody well only had a primary education and most of that was breaking cinder blocks and eating bloody play-doh! Put Stiles on. S-T-I-L-E-S! Yes! Stiles," Spike enunciated slowly for the demon on the other end of the line.

_Fyarl demons!_

"Yes! Well, where else I would be?" Spike yelled. "I don't bleedin' care if Derek ate your pet rock. Oi," Spike groaned. A long winded rant sounded over the phone and Spike had to fumble inside his coat pocket for another quarter to feed the payphone. He was desperately wishing for a cigarette but he had already smoked the last one ten minutes before, waiting for the two to make their appointed appearance. "Well what about the marriage counseling?" Spike asked. More yammering came from the other end causing the anxious vampire to roll his eyes. "Well yes I would think it would be hard to communicate with the counselor since Derek doesn't understand anything else beside Fyarl!"

Feeding the payphone, Spike was granted an additional couple minutes to this already overextended phone call. It was clear that nothing would happen until the two lovers had worked out their quarrel. He wanted to threaten. He wanted to reach through the phone and strangle both of them. Unfortunately all he had was a phone call and a century of experiencing the pain of making an often one-sided relationship work. Thankfully, you didn't spend a century dealing with a nutty lover without learning patience and perspective.

"Then find him a new pet rock," Spike suggested. "He what? Fine! Then dish out the dosh and buy him a rock! What do you mean that's not the problem?" Spike asked, his patience dwindling by the second. "Sentimental? He found it in a bag of puppy chow not a bloody diamond shop!" Spike's eyes widened in disbelief. "And how is that worse? Uh-huh. Uh-huh, yeah? Well the more time you waste, my time you waste, the less money you'll have to buy dog food."

Dredging up his last ounce of patience, Spike didn't see the shadow move from the mouth of the nearby alley. Wrapped up in the call and unable to think upon anything else, a parade could've marched by and he wouldn't have paid it any mind.

"Listen to me you stupid moron," Spike ground out – he had reached his wits' end. "Just get here. The Slayer is patrolling other side of town and the more time wasted, the bigger chance of her checking in and wondering where I scampered off to." A recorded voice on the phone informed Spike he only had twenty seconds left. "Listen! Just get the lorry and get here. I'll buy you some dog food and shove a rock in it and you can play the Chaos Demon who saved the day. A'ight? We can do it after knocking off this furniture business." More machine fired Fyarl sounded over the phone but this time it was more relieved and Spike sighed in relief, realizing he had finally made progress. "Yes I promise! Just put the truck in the loading bay and I'll handle the B and E." Spike was about to end the call when Stiles said something that made Spike shudder. "No you don't have time for a quickie! And I'm done playing marriage counselor!"

Hanging up the phone, Spike took a moment to compose himself and readjust the leather over his shoulders. Over his shoulder he eyed the store, closed over two hours ago. It's security was still on but he would take care of that. It wasn't the first time he'd robbed something like this. It was the first time he was doing so with the goal of not killing anyone but no matter, he'd adjust. One boot after the other, Spike made it halfway across the street before he realized he wasn't alone. One deep breath, and he knew exactly who had found him.

_Oh hell._

"Is it true, Spike?" Buffy asked. "Are – were – you going to rob that store?"

"You overheard all that then," Spike said as his shoulders slumped down in defeat and the tips of his shoes became very interesting. "Did you hear how Stiles and Derek are having problems?" When there was no answer he lifted his head and found Buffy standing on the sidewalk, next to the payphone. "Marital problems aside, it's great innit? Thought those two would never get their act together."

"This isn't funny, Spike," Buffy said. Looking at her now, he was relieved to see that she wasn't holding a stake but with the way her voice shook, she may as well be carrying around a sycamore. "Nothing about this is funny."

Seeing that she wasn't going to look the other way, he straightened up his posture and lifted his chin in defiance. "What are you planning on doing then, Slayer?" Spike smirked. "Arrest me? Call the coppers? Be hard to explain the lack of reflection." Truthfully, he had no idea what the best thing had been to say to her in this context. Judging by the way Buffy's eyes narrowed, it was clear that that had been amongst the poorer word choices.

She didn't run. She didn't have to. Spike wasn't about to run from her, not for something like this. With fists clenched and ready to fly, she stepped off the curb and went straight for him. Taking a deep breath he stood tall for the punch that was surely to come – only it never did. At arm's reach, she kept going and pushed his chest. He didn't fall but did stumble back a few steps, more in surprise than from actual force. She hadn't used her slayer strength. Able to see her more closely now, he realized that she didn't have to. All she needed were her eyes and the disappointment held within them.

_Her eyes?_

"Is this the first time?" Buffy demanded. When he didn't immediately answer she pushed him again. Ready for it this time, he didn't so much as move an inch. "I patrol night after night worrying about ignorant people who take shortcuts through cemeteries and idiots that wander down dark alleys. Are you telling me I need to play security guard too?"

"Evil!" Spike yelled fiercely. Past midnight and standing face to face in the middle of an empty street, they were alone in their own world. "Just because I can't take a bite out of somethin' juicy don't mean I just stop being what I am. Who I am. I am what I am and that will never change." When all she did was continue to look at him in that way, he realized it was worse than anything she could have said verbally. The way she breathed. How her shoulders tensed because she was so near to him. The way her lips trembled. While all of that was bad, it was nothing next to the look of hurt in her twin emerald greens.

_Why the hell is that? Why the fuck should I care what that bitch thinks!_

"Bit outside your jurisdiction 'ere, Slayer. Why the hell are you here?" Spike asked, hoping that would distract her for a brief moment so that he could regroup. For the second time that night, the second time within thirty seconds, he realized he had again gone with a bad word choice.

"I came here hoping that I was wrong," Buffy said. Her voice had lost its hard edge but those eyes still carried what he had now come to discern as disappointment rather than any semblance of anger. "The way you talked last night."

"We did a lot of talking," Spike pointed out.

"Before we finished last night's renovation you brought up how you wouldn't be able to make patrol tonight. On top of that you wanted to make certain of my patrol route. I know you Spike and after putting two and two together it made me suspicious." She sighed and closed her eyes. "Turns out I was right." Spike sighed in turn, having already expected these very words. The Slayer checking up on him because she suspected he was up to no good? That wasn't anything new. He thought his discussion last night was innocent enough, but she figured it out nonetheless. Yet another example of why this girl was destined for the Slayer Hall of Fame.

Their two lives once again at an impasse, Spike decided to best play it by ear. He'd wait for whichever sanctimonious speech she had memorized for the night and then respond with an appropriate measure of snark. As time passed, it soon occured to him that no lecture was coming and all there was was a guy and girl standing together somewhat awkwardly, at a loss, lost for words. "Fine," Spike said. "Look you go now and I'll wait for Sterek to show up and call the whole thing off."

Buffy looked at him incredulously. "What? You expect me to just leave while you wait for your two demon buddies to show up so you can rob it once I'm gone?" Spike averted his eyes and Buffy had to move her head lower so she could fully see him. "Oh my God, that is what you're thinking."

"Well what the 'ell else am I supposed to think?" Spike asked irritably. "Look at me! Look and – oi!" Buffy grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the street just as a speeding car came swerving around a corner. As it zoomed past, a police car, flashing its lights and now hitting its siren, followed closely behind. Realizing he had almost become roadkill Spike looked at her and nodded appreciatively. On the sidewalk and the immediate danger past, once more there was an awkward silence with neither knowing the words that needed to be said.

_Or maybe we do and just don't want to blow up into another squabble._

"Fine," Spike said and held up his hands in surrender. "You don't trust me? Then you stay to tell Sterek that the job is off. Ta ta, Slayer!" He turned to leave but found two strong arms seizing his arms and lifting his feet off the ground. Trying to push her off, there was nothing he could do without hurting her – and him – in the process. Stubbornness prevailing over logic, he continued his efforts to wrest himself free. All of it in vain. He could only watch as she carried him deeper into the alley she had spied earlier. "Lay off, you bitch!" To his relief, at long last she turned and lowered him down. Where they were now, whatever happened would be well out of sight from any curious onlookers.

"You're not going anywhere," Buffy seethed. The alley was a dead end and the only other way out was through her.

"And tonight boys and girls we have an encore guest performance of Blow-Up Buffy," Spike grumbled and kicked a nearby trash can over. The lid knocked loose and contents ranging from half-eaten cheeseburgers to broken bottles spilled over.

"Excuse me?" Buffy blustered. Turning away from the mess of trash littering the alleyway, Spike looked to her and saw a very deep blush spreading over cheeks. Between that and the way her heart had gone from a steady foxtrot to a pulse-pounding swing, whatever he'd said clearly had her flustered. Thinking back over his last comment he considered his words and then blinked in surprise at the double entendre his speech had unintentionally conveyed. "'Blow-Up Buffy?'" Buffy repeated and took an ominous step in his direction.

"Didn't mean it like that! I implied that you are about to 'blow up' and we'll be in for another row." Spike explained. Buffy stopped and reconsidered his words. He relaxed when he saw her nod in understanding and that it was an innocent mistake. "Honestly though, the last thing I was looking to do was turn ya scarlet. But hey, thanks for letting me know where your head is tonight, Slayer," Spike gibed. Just because it was a mistake didn't mean he was going to let a perfectly edible entendre go to waste.

"My 'head,'" Buffy began. "Is once more focused on you and cleaning up yet another one of your messes?" With her arms folded over her chest but still with no stake in evidence, he concluded that just as before, she wasn't going to attack but neither would she leave him unchaperoned. With no other foreseeable solutions, Spike resigned himself to waiting out however long this most latest of tiffs would last. Judging by the scowl on her face, nothing short of an apocalypse would give her cause to leave and let him get back to what he had been planning, the most disastrous of evil plots: getting some decent furniture for once.

Briefly he toyed with the idea of making a sudden rush and then dodging past her. However even if he was successful, the target for the burglary was only a five second walk across the street. He couldn't hit her and neither Stiles or Derek would be willing to take on the Slayer. There wasn't enough money in the world for such a proposal. "So what then? Just goin' to stand there, Slayer?"

"Why not?" she replied. Inside, Spike was scrambling for ideas but Buffy was the essence of nonchalance. "Fifteen more minutes and your demon buddies show up. I tell them to get lost and don't come back. End result? Once word is out that I'm keeping an eye on you, no demon would risk sticking their neck out for something like this."

"That right?" Spike asked. Tilting his head quizzically, he mulled over her notion of further planting a flag on his chest instead of a stake, as was the more traditional custom. "Suppose that's one way to go. But then, say some big bad came along and put a target on me. I can't go looking for some hired muscle to help—you'd have my back?"

"If someone came after you?" Buffy snorted. Still, he could see her giving it some candid thought. Albeit only briefly, she went from considering to a quiet chuckle. Clearly the idea of a dangerous enemy placing its sights on the chipped vampire wasn't something she expected anytime soon. "In the unlikely event something like that does happen? I'll help you pack but that's about it." Noticing the uncomfortable look growing on his face she couldn't help but take advantage, as in her mind it was the least he should get, given what he had tried to pull tonight. "Look, Spike. As far as I see, the only person you need to worry about pissing off is the one girl in all the world whose job is to kill you, and given where we're standing? You should really think hard before pulling a repeat of tonight. Some 'big bad' coming after you? Why? To steal your _Passions_ box set?"

His eyes closed. His shoulders stretched. His knuckles clenched. Spike opened his eyes and golden orange was clashing with sky blue as he fought to keep his rage in check. It was a losing battle and he finally snapped. "How does persecution grab yah?" Spike asked. The grave tone his voice had taken matched the way his eyes had begun to scour her. "Gripping enough?"

"What?"

"I told yah just last night, pet. They were gunning for me and nearly did me in when they raided my crypt, destroyed my telly."

"That? As I recall, Spike," Buffy spoke. "I did offer you my protection and you returned it by stabbing me in the back!"

"As I 'recall' you let me in because I had info you needed. Once you knew I wasn't a threat, you let me go my own way. Anything that happened between us afterward was strictly business. Nothing happened without money changing hands. Same thing with that Adam tosser. It was mercenary work, which is a hell of a lot more than your self-righteous arse could claim."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Buffy demanded.

"My recollection; you joined them knowin' full well what they were up to. Or did you miss the cages and operating tables during the grand tour?"

"Where the hell is this coming from? That makes no sense at all," Buffy argued. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing here."

"Oh really?" Spike asked. "You know what I'm on about. Please don't hold back, Slayer. Educate us all."

"First? This is pathetic. You're sidestepping the real issue of just how pathetic your existence is right now. Deflection via persecution? Saying I am guilty of the crap the Initiative was involved in? I didn't know what the hell was happening when I first visited the place."

"So then what was it?" Spike snapped, his eyes flashing amber. "When did you have your grand revelation? When they tried to off you in the sewer or when teen wolf was captured? Or do you really think he was the only innocent caught in the crossfire?" His retort turned ambush had been successful, as was expected. Spike had a lot of time alone with these thoughts and now he was going to pile it on. Already he had her on the ropes. Moving for the first time in minutes, he closed in for the kill, coming right up alongside her and whispered softly in her ear. "Or was it only when a human got chipped that you wagged that self-righteous finger of yours and judged them guilty?

"Take a look in the mirror, 'Hero,'" Spike spat and pointed a finger to his chest. "I'm the one without a reflection but I can still see who I am. Who the hell are you?"

She was balling her fist. Her body trembling in rage at the audacity of his accusations. They both knew what she wanted to do to.

"Take your swing, Slayer," Spike said at last. Lifting his head up high he tapped his face, right along the jaw. "Put it right there."

"I'll do more than hit you if you don't shut up," Buffy said.

"Do it then," Spike taunted. "Isaac Asimov, Slayer. 'Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.'"

"Excuse me?" Buffy retorted. "You're quoting words of peace? Who the hell is William the Bloody to give lessons on ethics?"

"Sure, piss on the demon. Change the subject. Deflect all you want and lock the truth in your vault of denial. But me? Never forget that there is one person out there who sees straight through you, you hypocritical bitch."

"It's in the past, Spike. Can't change what has already happened," Buffy replied. She wanted to hit him. Wanted to lay him out in that alley and beat him senseless. Instead, Buffy kept her cool and put a couple of feet between them—forcing him out of her personal space. This was not at all how she'd wanted the night to go. Things had been different lately. She had someone to fight with and accompany her. They had even been cordial with one another just the other day. She turned to leave him behind, it was time she found her way to the loading dock to intercept the other two demons. Spike's voice though followed after. "You're getting off easy, Slayer."

She couldn't resist the temptation any further. She hadn't wanted it to escalate. It's why she hadn't hit him when she'd found her suspicions about his whereabouts had proved true. It seemed, though, that sometimes old habits were just too hard to break. "I'm the one getting off easy?" Buffy turned and looked at him sharply. "Tell me then, where else are you going with this petty tantrum of yours, Spike? Bad mouth every questionable decision I ever made? Maybe go all the way back to Angelus? Because that's what happened last time we got into this shit! Well, forget it. This is about you; you and me. And I've had enough. You will point and mock that if I'd killed Angelus earlier I'd have saved more lives. I'd have saved Miss Calendar. Was that it, Spike? How close am I? Because a person can make a damn good argument that unless I kill you right now? The day will come when you get that chip out and the people _you_ kill, their blood will be on my hands. So really, who is getting off easy right now?" This time it was her turn to close the distance and back him up until he was flat against the alley wall.

"Er – well I uh... Er-" Spike stuttered, grasping for words. The right words this time.

Until, suddenly, something Spike never expected to happen – happened. Buffy relented. "Fortunately for you, I'm the kind of person who is, for the moment, able to box that fact away into my 'denial vault' until the day comes when you and I do have to deal with it. Which reminds me," Buffy said. Uncertain of anything, Spike had no clue as to Buffy's intentions until her fist slammed into his jawbone, the exact spot he had pointed to moments earlier. "Pretty certain Isaac Assmoff would still say I made my point. Truth is, Spike? You're right. I am a hypocrite. But at least I'm trying to learn from my mistakes, to the point of where I won't kill a helpless demon outright. But I tell yah, if you want me to change my mind about that, you just keep on talking."

"Well," Spike chuckled and wiped the blood from his jaw. "Looks like pigs fly after all, Buffy. Beat ole'Spike with my own logic. And in the interest of self-preservation, you won't hear any more on the issue from me – long as you agree to stop bringing up how I 'betrayed' you. We never trusted each other enough for that."

"Point," Buffy conceded and took a step back, giving him some much needed room to relax. "Point is, you're the last person I wish was here with me right now. No amount of fireworks or patrols together will ever change that. So no, Spike. I'll help you pack. I'll keep whoever you're worried about off your radar. But the extent of my protection is conditional on you leaving town until the issue is dealt with."

"So you're saying you don't want me gone then?"

"You're not about to start killing innocents. I'm the Slayer not a dictator. Way I see it, you can live where you want. As for my protection? I think I made myself clear enough on that." She turned to leave, make the trek to the meet with these Stiles and Derek guys.

"And if I don't leave?" Spike called after.

"Talk with Giles," Buffy decided. "It'll be business. Just like it's always been with a guy like you." His followed after her, hoping that tonight's roller coaster from hell had finally come to a stop. Just before she exited the alley she turned back and called to him. "No more knocking over businesses. You want furniture? Get a job."

_A job?_

"Hey! What did I say?" Spike yelled before she was out of earshot. "I cheat! I lie! Steal! I'm evil! I have a muzzle, not a Jiminy Cricket!"

She set off towards the loading dock, leaving Spike standing in the alley, exasperated. Thankfully 'exasperated' had become a way of life for him since coming to this little town in California and was well versed in curing it.

* * *

"That all you've got?" The two bulky demons looked at each other, sharing disbelieving glances, before refocusing their attentions on the crazed vampire who'd started the fight.

"Come on, you overgrown nancies, give us a tickle!" Eyes nearly swollen shut and blood dripping from his nose and mouth, Spike lifted his fists and bent his knees, ready to take whatever his two opponents would throw at him. Except what he wasn't ready for, was two scaly arms that wrapped around his waist and lifted him off the bar's floor in a overwhelming bear hug.

"Meet Spike, boys," a gurgling voice spoke out from behind Spike's shoulder.

Shaking his head and wriggling his body to try and break free, he would've gagged at his captor's pungent breath if he could smell anything through his busted nose. The two demons Spike had been facing off against gave the speaker a look of uncertainty; clearly they were from out of town.

"You see, what we have here is a turncoat," the scaly demon elaborated. "He used to fight for us but now he fights to kill us. Kills his own kind. My kind. My friends." The demon tightened its hold on Spike's torso, its strength so overwhelming that the vampire heard the sickening cracking of several ribs along with severe pain that shot through his body – he was helpless.

"Uh, Gormtosk," the bartender Willy spoke up, glancing nervously around at the escalating spectacle. "How about you just let Spike down? Rumor has it he's really fighting for the Slayer. If so, we don't need her coming down here and shutting my bar down."

"This has nothing to do with her!" Gormtosk argued and squeezed Spike tighter. "One less vamp is a banner day for her – especially one that fought for Adam not two months ago. Now, come on boys! Show Mister Spike what happens when you turn on your own kind!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw Willy look at him with sympathy in his eyes. Whatever else they might have been in the past, it was clear that Willy held no over-the-top resentments towards him. Still there was nothing Willy could do other than look the other way and ignore the painful screams erupting at the other end of the room.

"That's it," Gormtosk cheered as the two demons approached Spike and began to wail punch after punch into the vampire's unprotected gut.

Alternating blows, one slammed uppercut after uppercut into Spike's broken ribcage and wide open organs: liver, stomach, lungs, diaphragm, and whatever else the demon could hit. The other focused on Spike's pretty boy chiseled looks. Mug-sized fists pelted Spike's face again and again. His cheeks became fractured and crushed. His jaw broke in several places, leaving his mouth hanging open. Teeth were knocked out and his eyes swelled shut entirely.

Gormtosk, not wanting to be left out, removed one of his arms that had been holding Spike's now limp body, and wrapped the hand around the vampire's throat. Squeezing and clamping all around it Spike's throat tore. Cartilage popped and his airway crushed closed. Still the punches rained down, his skull splintered into pieces and red blood mixed with a yellowy discharge pooled from a pair of century-old ears.

"Had enough?" Gormtosk asked the near unconscious vampire. When all Spike's head did was droop, he released his bear hug and held him only by the throat. Thanking the other two demons for their cooperation, Gormtosk marched Spike out the back. With the strength of ten men, he threw Spike across the alley into the side of a dumpster, leaving a dark red splatter of blood from where the vampire had hit.

Gormtosk stalked forward. "How about that," he said, staring disgustedly down at the broken body that somehow was still moving – refusing to give in. "Don't worry, I won't kill you – yet. You fought the Slayer before. You fought alongside us with Adam. For that, me and the other demons are gonna give you one last chance. Leave, Spike. Leave the hellmouth and never come back."

"Fuck you," Spike choked out as blood and broken teeth fell from from his mouth.

"You know what? I'm sick of you," Gormtosk said. "We all are. You don't belong here – you don't belong anywhere." Next to the dumpster was a wooden crate filled with empty glass bottles. Lifting his foot up, Gormtosk slammed down the heel of his heavy boot, smashing glass and pieces of wood in all directions. Reaching down, he took a broken piece that would serve as a makeshift stake. Gripping the wooden shaft in his cold reptilian fist, Gormtosk watched in amusement as Spike fought to get to his feet. It was a futile effort though, and the vampire only managed to come to one knee. Lifting his fists, Spike puffed up his chest and glared in defiance.

_I love you Dru._

Spike was under no illusions regarding what was about to happen. He was alone. No one was coming to save him. But after a century of living in the moment Spike would be damned if he let himself go out with his back on the ground. His body was broken but his spirit would never be denied.

"You know something?" Spike's executioner spoke. "I almost admire you." As Gormtosk cocked back his arm to deliver the death blow, Spike braced himself for whatever hell awaited him. When he felt the sharp pain of the stake ripping into his chest Spike knew it was over. The fire would soon be all around him. An eternity of pain and suffering. That was his fate and for William the Bloody, he wouldn't have it any other way. Any second now it would happen.

_Any second now._

"What the hell?" Gormtosk said in disbelief. "Impossible!"

Spike looked down at the wood protruding from his chest only to blink in surprise at where it had landed, or rather not landed. The wooden stake had stabbed though his right breast, bare inches from Spike's heart. It had been close but it wasn't enough. Despite his blurred vision Spike could easily see the look of shock on the demon's face. In fact he suspected that his own expression mirrored Gormtosk's. The strike had been point blank.

"Must've had too much to drink," Gormtosk tried to reason. "No matter," he added and Spike felt the deadly piece of wood begin to pull out of his chest as Gormtosk prepared for a more accurate strike – only it didn't. Growling in frustration Gormtosk shifted his grip and wrapped both of his hands around the stake, trying to wrench it free but to no avail. The best he could do was wriggle it back and forth, cutting into Spike's surrounding pectoral muscle. He would've screamed out were the rest of his body not in worse pain.

_What the hell is happening?_

"Hey!" Gormtosk snapped as his struggles with the stake suddenly ceased and instead focused on his two strong wrists. "What the hell?" he demanded. Spike looked on, astounded as Gormtosk tried to move his arms against some invisible force holding them down. Becoming tired and frustrated, the scaled demon stopped and stared hard to his left, Spike's right. "Who's there?"

In answer, Gormtosk's entire body was lifted up into the air and flew across the alley, the exact opposite direction of where Spike had collapsed. Hitting the brick wall opposite, Gormtosk groggily shook his head and moved to pick himself up – only to be slammed back down into the hard concrete. As blood continued to seep from his wounds, Spike fought to stay awake. Stay conscience and not give in. He had no idea what was happening and just as earlier, he wasn't about to slip away and let Gormtosk stake him should the other demon recover.

His recovery, though, was beginning to look less and less likely. Still pinned a dozen feet away, his head was now jerking wildly from left to right as if being punched. Bleeding out green pus, Gormtosk was powerless to stop the relentless assault and eventually just gave in. That did not save him from further punishment. Spike still didn't know what this was. The best he could go on was a ghost and if so then this was a very pissed off spirit. Gormtosk's head was beginning to look less and less like a head and more like a stump. A greenish purplish pulp that kept hitting its head into the back of the pavement was all that remained and it seemed that the ghost had finally realized this.

Spike watched as the pummeling stopped only moments later to hear a the loud snap of a complete break – Gormtosk's neck being snapped. Gulping nervously, Spike tried to work his fingers around the stake to pull it out before it was his turn with the night's surprise guest. It was no use though. Spike's body was broken and his energy drained. So it was to no surprise when he felt something hold him still and pull the stake free from his chest. The piece of wood dripping with his blood hovered a foot above him in the air and he knew that Gormtosk's killer was now poised over himself to do the same thing.

It was over.

Spike peered up to where he thought the apparition stood and waited expectantly. Resigned to his fate, with all semblance of pride lost he had one final request. "Do it fast, yeah?" The words he thought to be his death toll had an altogether different effect. He eyed the stake, held like one would in their hand, as it was turned sideways until it became pointed away from Spike. A beat passed and then suddenly the deadly piece of timber was cocked back and pitched, spiraling down the alley where it splintered to pieces against a rusted dumpster.

He could feel but not feel what was happening. His senses were lost but he could still see enough and was aware enough that something was holding his head up off of the hard ground. Tired of holding it up, Spike gave into his unknown benefactor and allowed himself to rest.

Before the world faded away, Spike felt a soft, gentle, touch caress his cheek.

* * *

It was just past dawn when Willy finished taking inventory. Between finishing his monthly inventory and the trouble with Gormtosk and Spike earlier, the only thing on the barkeep's mind was the fastest route from the bar to his bed. Last night had been rough and he hoped that for Spike's sake, the vampire would finally take the hint and leave town for a while until the dust settled. His work finished, Willy headed back through the kitchen to close up the back door when something large slammed into the kitchen's back wall. The crash was so loud that it sounded throughout the entire establishment and had Willy stunned speechless.

"Hey did you hear something?"

"Yeah, Clem," Willy replied, finding his voice. "In the alley I think." His curiosity getting the better of him, Willy walked through the back door to explore the alley behind the bar. The first thing he spotted was an enormous blue dumpster half imbedded into his kitchen's outside wall. Shaking his head in disbelief, he looked around, trying to find the source of the damage but the only thing he saw was Gormtosk's pulverized dead body lying some twenty feet up the alley.

Willy had wondered what had happened to the powerful demon after it had dragged Spike out the back, as it never came back to finish its drink. Seeing it dead, and in that ghastly state, was the last thing he expected. Scratching his head, trying to make sense of it all, Willy came to the conclusion that the only other person who had the slightest idea of what had happened was - "Spike?" Willy's eyes found the crumpled heap of dead flesh further up the alley, near the entrance and with the sun's rays inching dangerously close to his unconscious form. Kneeling down beside the vampire, he gently shook him, trying to get some sort of response. "Uh Spike? I know you're a bit out of it but the sun's getting a-"

Suddenly Willy's head shot back and his mouth was torn open wide into a soundless scream. Eyes closed, his body spasmed violently as a burning pain consumed him. Fortunately, the pain wasn't lasting and seconds later, both eyes snapped open. His knees buckled and he fell forward, only to catch himself at the last moment, his nose inches from the pavement. He lifted his head and his eyes flashed white before returning to their normal color. His jaw set and eyes focused. There was only one thing they saw.

Jumping to both feet, he reached down and went to lift Spike up onto his shoulder in a classic fireman's carry. Except that he found that the strength he needed wasn't there. Growling in frustration Willy glanced towards the slowly encroaching sun. The sight of the sunlight so close to Spike's hand, triggered a flash of fear across his face. However just as quickly as it had come, Willy's eyes turned hard and he shook his head in defiance. Shifting his grip, Willy instead held Spike by the shoulders and managed to drag him back down the alley and into safety of shadow. With the vampire out of harm's way, the human fell to his knees and tightly gripped at his chest.

His body shaking with tremors and involuntary muscle spasms, it a full thirty seconds before he could regain control of his nerves.

"No," Willy grounded out, his voice ominously quiet. "Not yet." Turning his head back towards the bar, Willy shouted. "Clem! Clem, come out here!" It took a minute and the whole time Willy kept yelling for the demon's assistance until finally the flappy-skinned poker player revealed himself.

"Okay, okay, I'm here," Clem announced as he emerged through the back door. "Where's the fire – whoa! Why's there a dumpster in the wall?"

"Later," Willy said and gestured with his head for Clem to help. "Right now we need to get Spike someplace safe."

"Huh?" Clem asked and looked to Willy in disbelief. "Wow Gormtosk really did a number on him and what do you mean someplace safe? Nowhere is safe for him, not right now."

"He need-" Willy began but a sudden wave of discomfort took hold. Fighting it off Willy's voice took on a decisive edge. "Spike needs a place to stay low and heal. With the town out for his blood, the last place he should be is his crypt." Willy looked out of the alley, the sunny Californian sky was cloudless. As if that weren't enough, the streets were starting to fill up with the local residents as they went about their morning appointments. The sight of a dead body under a burning blanket would draw a great deal of unwanted attention. "You'll have to take him," Willy decided and fixed Clem with a hard stare.

"What-what?" Clem asked and looked at the human as if he had grown an extra head. "All of Sunnydale is out for his blood and you want me to take him back to my bachelor pad?"

"He needs blood also," Willy added and turned his attention away from Clem, ignoring his protests. His eyes focused on Spike, voice becoming quiet. "I'll take care of that. Take the sewers and get him to your apartment on Boxley. I'll grab the blood and meet you there."

"My apartment? I don't even know this guy!" Clem balked. Willy's head whipped around and the look in his eyes made Clem's blood go cold.

"This isn't up for discussion! Keep him out of sight. If things get bad? Find the Slayer."

"Oh no!" Clem shook his head. "Listen, Willy. You've been real swell letting us play in the back but my help doesn't include getting my head chopped off. Besides, I know Spike's rep. No way would she help. In fact, why do you care what happens to him?" Clem asked and noticed in the sudden uneasiness on Willy's face.

"Because he-! I mean... Well? Look, we've had our differences," Willy said at last. "But lately he's been good about paying off his tab! And, uh? He – he even took out a few demons who were harassing me."

Clem looked at him doubtfully. "Okay but doesn't he just do that because he gets off on that?"

"Yeah well?" Willy said then stopped. Clem watched as the uncharacteristically assertive human now was at a loss for words. Brushing a hand through his greasy hair Willy shook his head and sighed. "He's better than the Slayer. She barges in and punches me in the face all the time! Busts up my bar! She doesn't give a crap about what happens here. Us good guys don't have anyone to represent us."

"Good guys?" Clem stated, his floppy eyebrow raised in doubt.

"You know what I mean," Willy said. "And it doesn't matter! What matters is getting him out of sight before more trouble starts." When he saw that Clem still needed some convincing, Willy rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Do this and we're square for the rest of the summer. Tab cleared and free drinks until August. Deal?"

"What the heck has gotten into you?" Clem wondered. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Clem left his spot by the door and joined Willy at Spike's side. Casting one last doubting look at the human, Clem knelt down and pulled Spike's body over his shoulder.

"There's a sewer grate over there," Willy indicated. He led Clem, now carrying Spike on his shoulder, towards the sewer access. Momentarily setting the vampire down to help Willy with the grate, Clem lifted Spike again and dropped down into the safety of the sewers.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Appreciation: A big special thank you goes out to the story's beta, All4Spike. A talented writer in her own right please a big welcome for her and much appreciation for her assistance.

AN: So I'm just about finished with all the writing for this story. I've been writing a lot since April and will continue to try to post at least weekly. It'll come out to roughly around eighty thousand words or so, and I do have plans for a sequel when I get there.

-S


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the franchise's characters, places, etc. I am not making a profit from this work other than the joy I take in writing it.

Previously: Despite their honest work together during crypt renovations Buffy became suspicious of Spike's activities. When she interrupted his plan to rob a furniture store those suspicions were confirmed. Resolving that they would forever be enemies first and reluctant allies at best, it would never be his job to save the world. Nor would she rush to protect him should his unlife become in danger. So when a bar brawl turns deadly and Spike becomes gravely wounded questions surfaced. If not Buffy who can he go to? What was that invisible force that saved him? And most importantly: What does this mean for the Prank War?

**WHITE HAT: PART I**

**SMILE BOOK (BETA v1.8) – Presented By UC Sunnydale Technology Department**

SB PRIVATE CHAT ROOM: "Scooby Speak!"

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** So then XANDER wouldn't jump!

**REDHEAD_LOVER:** Jump off the Golden Gate?

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** Yes! I swear he was the one that talked the talk about all the romance but when the moment comes does he follow through? Of course not! Because THAT would require a little thing called commitment!

**CHOSEN_SUX:** I you may b minsterpreting a lil Anya. C, Niagra Falls is romantic. Golden gate suicide not so much

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** I know! But Xander won't go for that either!

**REDHEAD_LOVER: **Well it is kind of on the other side of the continent.

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** That wasn't the issue. He is more than ok with driving. No! Aparently barrels over the falls are 2 dangerous also!

**CHOSEN_SUX:** Why are you trying to kill Xander?

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** I'm not! Why do peolpe keep saying that?

**CHOSEN_SUX:** because those are popular methods of suicie?

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** Well so is attacking a giant snake but he had no problem doing that! Besides this isn't about death!

**REDHEAD_LOVER:** Then what is it?

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** Proving our love for each other!

**CHOSEN_SUX:** ANYA! There is NOTHING romantic about dying!

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** Well tell that to my old friend Shakspeare!

**REDHEAD_LOVER:** Oh! You knew William Shakespeare?

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** Yes of course, how else do you think he became so famous!

**CHOSEN_SUX:** You cursed shakespeare with fame?

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** That isn't a curse Buffy. No it was all about this other writer and how he cheated on her! His wife was so mad she made a wish that he would stop being good as a writer. So he can feel what it's like to lose what you love. Shakeseare was just the guy lucky enugh to inherit the gift when I removed it frm the two-timing pig of a husband!

**CHOSEN_SUX:** That's an interesting story Anya but death and romantic don't go hand and hand. Romeo and Juliet for example. While nice and sweet there is nothing romantic about killing yourself to be with someone

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** Really?

**CHOSEN_SUX:** Yes reall! Oh! and neither is spending your life pining for some guy you can never be with! U know? Wasting years waiting for some miracle to happen that'll make things ok between you 2?

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** Like you and Angel

"What?" Buffy said aloud into her bedroom, after seeing Anya's latest chat comment. She was hoping that she managed to get through to Anya about the woman's misguided notions about death and romance but then she went and pulled a Spike by flipping it around on her.

**REDHEAD_LOVER:** What? Anya, this isn't about Buffy and Angel.

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** The similarites are there though. No reason to talk abut a play written by a guy over three hundreds years ago when there is a perfect example right there in Sunnydale

**REDHEAD_LOVER: **Anya some things are really sensitive to talk about. Past loves fall into that category!

_No kidding. Since when did my love life become town gossip?_

Granted that it was only Anya who was making with the tactless, which Buffy not only expected but even had come to accept over the past year. It was a situation where Buffy reasoned that if the ex-demon made her best friend happy, then that was what mattered. It was the same story with Tara. Admittedly she had been surprised when Willow first told Buffy about her feelings for the other woman but the shock didn't last, especially after she had come to know Tara better over time. No it was the "other" resident demon who had been playing too much Doctor Phil of late.

**CHOSEN_SUX:** It's okay, Anya's right. It's the big reason why Angel left. It is also partly why I have a very nice and very non-angsty boyfriend who will not turn into a psychopath and kill my friends

**REDHEAD_LOVER:** Hey, speaking of vampires, how's the "prank war" going? Is Spike waving a white flag yet?

**CHOSEN_SUX:** vampires = ugh! If only Spike had the same sense to just leave!

**REDHEAD_LOVER:** Is it that bad? You haven't said anything about him since that one night he hijacked your account some weeks ago.

She knew the smart play was to just rant on about how evil and annoying Spike was. To repeat the party motto of: "Demons are evil. Spike, is a demon. Spike's chip comes out so comes out the dust pan." Only it hadn't been like that this summer. The snark was still there but it wasn't as intense as before. If Spike had been human she would even consider having him as a friend. Only that wasn't the case and never would be. Angel was the vampire who wanted to be human. Spike reveled in being a vampire; evil through and through.

_Which is why playing this game with him is so dangerous!_

**CHOSEN_SUX:** It's complicat...

Buffy paused in her typing, staring at the words she had repeated so often in the past whenever discussing her rivalry with the blond vampire. They still applied to the current situation but Willow, Xander, Giles, and the others with whom she usually discussed all things Spike with were absent from this current chat. She knew what they would say, of course, but without them here this might could be an opportunity for some fresh perspectives. Backspacing what she'd started to type she went with a different approach.

_Well, almost different._

**CHOSEN_SUX:** It's complicated, only not in the overly over too overly over complicated but maybe only sort of compliucated comply?

_Overly complicated? Smooth, Summers._

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** You mean you are understanding him more?

_Why couldn't I say that?_

**CHOSEN_SUX:** Its different. I think a lot of it has to do with he's the only person I have for companyu right now. All the more reason on why I CANNOT WAIT for you guys to come back

**REDHEAD_LOVER:** It is that bad?

**CHOSEN_SUX:** No it isn't. And that's the problem it''s getting to the point where saying the name Spike doesn't send the same sdisgusted chill up my spine. And that is so not a good thing!

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** So call him smething else

**CHOSEN_SUX: **Like what? Pig? Disgusting? Evil? Vampire? Demon? Kind of running the whole gauntlert

**REDHEAD_LOVER:** How about "enemy?"

_Enemy?_

Buffy scrunched up her face.

_That's so lame!_

**CHOSEN_SUX:** I don't know Tara. That's kind of bland and lamey, yu know?

**REDHEAD_LOVER:** Yeah but that is kind of the point, Buffy. There is nothing cute or creative or any sort of quip-like nickname about it.

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** Tara does make a good point. You have a lot of enemies Buffy. When you call Spike "enemy" it'll be hard to associate that as a nickname soley for him. Itd be hatrd to forget what he is. The only word that would fit better is something like "murderer" or "person who will kill me someday"

**CHOSEN_SUX:** I get what you two are saying, I do. It's just that enemy is so blahg and unfun

**COLD_HARD_$$$:** Well yeah, isnt that the point?

_Isn't it?_

**REDHEAD_LOVER:** You might as well try it, Buffy. If it doesn't help you can go back to calling him what you were before. When will you see him next?

**CHOSEN_SUX:** We don't exactly sertup dates or anyhing like that. Although I have been avoiding him this entire past week. Not goin into details but something happened that irked me, Decided some time apart would be for the best. I think he got the same impression as he has avoided me also.

**REDHEAD_LOVER:** Then maybe tomorrow night can be a test run? If nothing else you can see what he has been up to. In a way you are his parole officer.

**CHOSEN_SUX:** because so many mass murderers get out on parole

**REDHEAD_LOVER:** Well? How else would you describe that part of your relationship?

"Oh my God," Buffy groaned and closed her eyes as Tara's words hit home. Was it really that surprising though? She did want a fresh perspective after all.

_Well I got one! Juvenile delinquent Buffy Summers, unofficially appointed parole officer to mass-murderer William the Bloody._

"Only on the hellmouth."

* * *

"Hakuna matata, what a wonderful phrase," Clem warbled with his voice fluttering nervously. He had been standing outside of Spike's crypt for well over an hour. Since his arrival, what confidence he had continued to dwindle minute by minute. "Hakuna matata, ain't no passing craze."

A branch broke somewhere off to his left and Clem's head whipped around towards the direction of the sound. His eyes swept the rows of several dozen tombstones spread out over a large stretch of Restfield's cemetery. Swept and searched for any inkling of movement. A lone crow cawed before beating its wings to fly away, leaving the jittery demon alone with only dead men for company.

Idly twiddling his sweating fingers, his flaps of excess skin not helping in the slightest, Clem was again left feeling utterly alone in a perpetual sea of grass, marble and granite with only his wild imagination for company. Such imaginings ranged between a gang of demons catching and skinning the layers of skin from his flesh all the way to a petite blonde girl severing his head with an ax. If his death were to come though, he would prefer it to be at the Slayer's hand. The likelihood of being flayed and tanned postmortem was clearly the worse of the two afterlifes.

"It means no worries for the rest of your days," Clem sang, picking up from where he'd left off earlier. His fingers continued to twiddle and he thought back on Spike's offer to partake in a smoke earlier on. He had declined then but were he to ask him now, Clem realized he would be hard pressed to not accept such a gesture, if only to ease the building stress.

Six nights before, he had told Willy that taking in Sunnydale's most wanted vampire was as far as his "help" extended. There weren't enough free drinks and poker games in the world that could convince Clem to team up with the Slayer. Working with her was what had brought Spike into this trouble to begin with.

_And he can have it!_

"It's our problem-free philosophy, Hakuna Matata," Clem continued but then his voice drifted off as his eyes at last found the person he had both hoped and dreaded to meet this night.

He had only heard of her by secondhand accounts but living in Sunnydale for as long as he had, he could point her out in a lineup. It wasn't so much her small frame or the flashy clothes she wore to attract the attention of preying demons, it was more how she carried herself. Reading people was the bread and butter of any poker game and by Clem's estimation, this was a walk the Slayer had taken before.

Her step was sure, following an invisible path only her eyes could see. Her armor was nothing more than a simple blouse and pair of blue jeans. The resemblance of an oblivious coed wandering around the dark was uncanny. So much so that her facade was offset only by the ease with which she carried herself. Rather than playing the baby seal, her presence exuded was more of the shark, patrolling for its next kill. The cemetery was her hunting ground and any demon foolish enough to be caught in such an obvious kill zone was signing their own death warrant.

Now, within a hundred feet of his position, Clem gulped nervously when he saw her gait slow and come to an eventual pause as she recognized him for what he was. Despite never seeing her up close, Clem knew the exact moment that her eyes narrowed and her jaw became set as she poised herself.

_As if aiding and abetting a fugitive wasn't bad enough! Secretly meeting the SLAYER while she's out killing my drinking buddies? And then! Even if tonight goes right – oh my uno and checkers that's a big knife!_

"Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh – help?" Clem stuttered and began to take step back only to find himself trapped against the wall of the mausoleum.

"Help?" the Slayer mimicked as a cold wicked grin froze Clem to the spot. "Help who? I offer all sorts of help to all sorts of people. I'm help-y like that. For demons like you?" The Slayer paused and masterfully twirled the eight inch blade betweenst her fingers. "There's only one kind of help I offer," the Slayer explained. Her grin folded as her voice lost all pretenses of sweetness and dropped to what was to be a cold promise of death. "I'll help you straight to hell."

_Help who? Help me. Help me! Help – oh right!_

She closed in. The power in her hand betrayed its miniature size as she pressed him back against the outer wall of Spike's crypt. Clem turned his face away, closed his eyes, and said what he hoped to be the magic name that would save him from her chosen destiny.

"Spike!" Clem yelped just as he felt cold tip of her knife poke his skin.

The shift happened immediately. One moment the pressure on his neck was suffocating and in the next it had slackened. The knife that had begun to dig into his chest was pulled away. It was enough assurance for him to peek between his eyelids and witness the difference in her expression. Before, it had been nothing but business. Ruthless professionalism. Now, however, there was a clear look of hesitation. It was remarkable that something as little as a name could prove to be the catalyst for so radical a change. So dynamic its effect, Clem was certain that if other demons knew the charm that name held, it would be dropped more often.

His reprieve though was short lived. The moment that captured her in uncertainty had come and gone, only to be replaced by something far worse than her lethal demeanor from before. "What do you know?" It wasn't a question. It wasn't a request. It was a demand and if he didn't tread lightly, that knife she held would find itself a new sheath.

"He's in trouble!" Clem exclaimed. In response he only felt her hold on him tighten. "A lot of trouble. Sunnydale's demons are out to get him!"

"Why?" the Slayer pressed.

"Because of you!" Clem burst and there was no mistaking the terror in his voice. Still that did nothing to change the dubious look on her face. "And because of how he kills his own kind! How he betrayed Adam and the others!"

Her response was to roll her eyes and scoff. It was then that Clem realized this was hardly news to her. "I've already had this conversation with him," the Slayer said shortly. "Whatever has happened since then, doesn't change a thing." That hadn't been the response Clem had hoped for and neither was the way her eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

"Clem!" he squeaked, the tremors in his voice far from subsiding.

"Okay, Clem," the Slayer nodded and relaxed her hold as she realized that the demon was more likely to pee his pants than take a swipe at her. "You're a demon, why are you playing messenger boy? Why aren't you out for his dust?"

"Not every demon wants him dead," Clem explained, realizing the open handed candidness was his best bet. "Most don't care either way, certainly not enough to help him. Government chip or not, in their mind, Spike dug his own grave. Those that do care only want him dead and since that night, they've been looking all over town for him."

"Really?" Buffy said skeptically. "If they're out in force then why haven't I run into any?"

"We all know better than to cross paths with the Slayer, even more so since you're protecting him." Clem picked up that this wasn't something she had expected to hear, which confirmed Spike's denials about his partnership with the Slayer being anything more than mercenary. "That's just what's been assumed by everyone else," Clem clarified. "The guy denies anything other than killing to get his rocks off." At her arched eyebrow he held up his hands in surrender. "His words!"

"Obviously," the Slayer said and looked to be giving thought to Clem's explanations. Eventually though, she shook her head and made ready to leave, intent on continuing her patrol. "Again, this doesn't change a thing. It's not my job to save his skin or play demon referee. He needs to leave town."

"He can't!" Clem said quickly, before she could turn away. "He's been hurt."

Given how unattached she had been to Spike's welfare and her determination to leave the vampire's problems behind in the cemetery with the "messenger boy," Clem was under the impression that nothing would change the Slayer's stance on the matter. He was wrong.

Hearing his words, she stopped and let out a long tiresome sigh. "Of course he is," she grumbled and turned to face Clem and listen to the rest of the demon's brief. "How bad?"

"He can't walk," Clem answered, with a look of relief washing over his face when he at last go through to her.

"Wow, history repeating itself," she replied with a roll of her eyes. Despite the callousness of those particular words Clem could have sworn that her voice had filled with something nearing nostalgia. Such a random twist the gentle demon couldn't even begin to speculate on what she might really feel. "Take me to him."

It wasn't a request.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Reviews:

Thank you for the kind words everyone, reviews help to encourage any writer. This is a fun story and a story that I immensely enjoy writing. Which, by the way, if any reader has an idea for a fun prank either involving Spike and Buffy themselves or (any other BtVS character) please include in a review. With a story like this I have a lot of rope to play with.

AN:

Shorter chapters means frequenter updates and a easier reading on the eyes. As always a big thank you to the story's beta, All4Spike. Without her this story would be sorts out of whack.

-S


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the franchise's characters, places, etc. I am not making a profit from this work other than the joy I take in writing it.

Previously: After Spike is badly beaten outside of Willy's bar Clem, as a favor to Willy, took Spike in to help the vampire heal. However after a week of healing and dozens of demons out for Spike's blood Clem, with no other choice, goes to Buffy for help.

**WHITE HAT: PART II**

Boxley Street was in a residential area set apart from other Sunnydale neighborhoods. Home to many of the town's more curious residents, its houses and apartments were held for individuals of a certain nature. If there was a demon who could pass close enough for human and meant no harm, then a meeting would be arranged with the block's mysterious proprietor. Resembling a man in his mid-forties, his credentials to the authorities identified him as a person named Jeffery Adams, born and raised in the wonderful state of California. Those who called Boxley Street home knew him by a different name, Cutting Ball.

Not the most aesthetically pleasing of streets, Boxley nonetheless was far from dilapidated. Maintained by the same demons who took refuge in the area, the amount of effort and care put into the neighboring homes was evident to any passerby, or unexpectedly chipped vampires who ended up in the cold with nowhere else to go.

Initially, Spike had considered a move to Boxley back when he first ran into troubles with the Initiative. It was off the beaten path and not known by many outside the demon community, so he was fairly certain that not even the Slayer knew about it, which was the point of course. Cutting Ball advertised it as a neighborhood for people suffering from physical deformities. It was a byline that not only held up against Sunnydale's finest ,but the scrutiny of the Initiative as well. It was exactly what he had been looking for, a safe haven in which to hang his hat until he figured out whatever was happening in his head.

Cutting Ball hadn't seen it that way. Spike's reputation preceded him wherever he went and while he might have been muzzled for the moment, there was no telling when the chip in his head would burn itself out. Even if his chipped-fate was sealed, the vampire was still being hunted all over the hellmouth and he had an unfortunate habit of drawing attention to himself. The last thing Boxley Street needed was a loose cannon like Spike tipping that precarious balance.

So it was no surprise that when Cutting Ball learned of Clem's very own "English Patient", the demon proprietor was less than pleased, especially considering that every demon in Sunnydale knew that Spike was living on borrowed time. But Clem had been both a caring and responsible tenant ever since he'd moved into the small single storey house and made it his home. The faith Cutting Ball placed in Clem was the only reason Spike had lived past sunrise – and the vampire knew it. Despite this lucky roll of the dice, Cutting Ball had made it clear that as soon as Spike was able, the vampire had to move on. If he did not, then Cutting Ball would hand Spike over to the hunters himself.

That had been three nights before and since then, Spike had done his best to drink the blood that Willy, another surprising benefactor, supplied him with. It wasn't the good stuff from his bar but rather purchased through a discount deal Willy had set up with the town's butcher shop. Nothing could replace the healing properties of 98 degree human hemoglobin but pigs blood was better than nothing; it only required more time for the healing process to make any real effect.

_Time that I'm running out of._

His body broken, Spike had been hidden away in the cramped closet of Clem's bedroom for nearly a week. The first few days hadn't been so bad, unconsciousness excels at pain management. However once his eyes had opened, pain became his entire world. Thankfully he wasn't alone. Clem never disclosed the full details of his deal with Willy but as far as nurses were concerned, Spike could have done far worse.

Neither had any formal medical training but to Spike's credit, with over a hundreds years of unlife on the edge, he knew a considerable amount of battlefield medicine. He didn't dwell much on what was specifically wrong but he did diagnose the basics. Aside the numerous fractures to his entire skeletal system and surface lacerations, contusions, and immense swelling, he had suffered extensive internal injuries as well – specifically his right lung.

Gormtosk's stake had broken through Spike's ribcage and punctured the lung completely. Vampire respiratory system, or lack thereof, made it a non issue except for the many times he opened his mouth to talk. He didn't think on what else had was torn and bleeding, there was no point. For Spike there were only two organs that really mattered. The undead heart that prolonged his lifespan and the other supernatural organ that made it pleasurable.

_Emphasis on the "super."_

Besides his attention to setting Spike's bones and preparing the blood, the gentle demon did his best to keep the vampire from going stir crazy. Somewhere between card games, sharing cooking recipes, and Dawson's Creek marathons, he had found an unlikely friend in the demon who gave a new definition to the term "flop sweat."

_Come to think of it where is that walkin' acne-ad?_

Clem had informed him hours before that he had to see Cutting Ball and give the proprietor another update on Spike's condition. He didn't blame the landlord as he was more than just a guy to whom his tenants paid rent. In a place as volatile as the hellmouth, it was nothing short of a miracle that a guy like Cutting Ball was around to lend a hand to demons in situations like Clem's. In a world ruled by extremes of black and white, Boxley Street was a refreshing shade of gray. Only natural that Cutting Ball would want to protect it, seeing as how the Slayer wasn't about to lift a finger to help.

_Bitch doesn't even know about it. Though all things considered, that's probably a good thing._

Had she known then, it was likely her little tin soldier would've found out too. It wasn't so much that Spike cared in particular for this neighborhood, beyond the shelter it offered him now. The idea of the Initiative doing what it did to him to anyone churned something awful inside. Clem had been a standup bloke to him these past couple days. Reminded him a lot like the Slayer's mum. The idea of those soldiers kidnapping a demon – a person – like him?

"Bloody 'ell," Spike groaned and shook his head when he realized the direction those thoughts were leading. They came anyway.

"_There's no belonging or deserving anymore. You can take what you want, have what you want... but nothing is yours. Not even her."_

"Soddin' Paddy," Spike muttered and pushed the memory back into the trunk labeled 'All Thing's Forehead.' The rumbling growls of his empty stomach reminded him of the immediate situation. With no sign of any outsiders snooping around just yet, Spike was fairly certain that Cutting Ball would be okay with letting him lie up for a few more days. He didn't need too much more time. Already he could manage to walk, provided he moved carefully enough.

_Course I won't be moving anywhere without me blood! Where the 'ell is Clem?_

He felt her first, he always did. Shy of tracking her, if Buffy was the one who came upon him he would feel her before any other sense. So attuned he was to her signature, it didn't matter if there was a chosen one or a chosen hundred. He would know her anywhere. Then he would hear her. He would hear everything from the flutter of her heart, particularly when he delivered a particularly devious innuendo, to the intake of her lungs moments before she rebuked him for it. Smell came next followed shortly by his eyes shifting in the direction he knew she would be coming from.

Well he felt her all right and as his ears perked forward, it wasn't long before he picked up snippets of her conversation with Clem. The most immediate question of how she'd found him was answered the moment he determined the cordial tone in her voice.

_Cheeky bastard brought her here!_

"I have to say, Clem," Spike overheard. They were just outside the front door and once more she had underestimated his greater senses.

_She's gone soft is what it is. Too many fledges and not enough Big Bad._

"I have to say you aren't like other demons I've met," she stated warmly.

"Oh? I hope that's in a good way! I'm not a violence kind of guy."

"Yeah, that's what I mean," Buffy iterated. "And it's great you found a place like this that accepts others like you."

"You don't know the half of it either! It took me a long time to find a community like this. We look out for each other." Spike heard Clem pause and even out of his line of vision the vampire could see the gears turning inside the other demon's head. "There was a 'but' in there though?"

"But," Buffy said carefully. "To me it seems like the last place you would want a guy like Spike around is here. You're taking a really big risk with a guy who would love nothing more than to kill you, you know, under different circumstances."

_Speak for yourself you bloody bitch!_

"Yeah," Clem said and Spike heard the familiar jiggle of the house keys. "I know his rep and everything. Every demon does. But the past couple days with him have been pretty cool!"

"Cool?" Buffy asked, likely not knowing whether to smile or interrogate the vampire for clues of evil deception.

"We did all sorts of things! For a vampire who drinks blood, he knows a surprising number of cooking recipes!"

"Recipes?" Buffy repeated and even with walls between them Spike could easily imagine her smile of elation. "That is hard to imagine," she continued. "What else have you to boys been up to?"

"Well there's the card games of course. You should know that Spike knows his way around a poker table. You know? Playing poker is more about reading the other players and less about the cards. Picking up tells and hiding your own bluffs. He's really good at it!"

"Reading people?" Buffy said, clearly disappointed that the "secret" wasn't more juicy. "Yeah that's Spike all over."

_Soddin' right it is._

"Oh! We also spent a lot of time watching TV!"

"Really?" Buffy perked up at that. "Let me guess, Passions?"

_Oh God no..._

"I wish!" Clem exclaimed, front door still closed they were still under the false assumption he couldn't hear them. Something Spike had hoped he would be able to keep a secret. The last thing he wanted was to let the Slayer in on the extent of his senses. "No I can't get that channel. But we still made out all right!"

"Oh?" Buffy said innocently. "What did you two end up watching?"

_Over my ash tray!_

"I can hear you two, you know!" Spike yelled loudly. Two heartbeats accelerated and despite his hopes to remain undetected, there was no way that Clem would tell the bloody slayer about his penchant for American teenage dramas. "Anymore pillow talk and I'll use you as my new dish towel, Clem!"

He could hear a few more mumbles but Spike was confident that Clem wouldn't betray such a delicate secret. He was already in trouble for bringing the Slayer here, or would be soon enough. Besides, there was no point. Buffy had made herself perfectly clear that night outside the furniture shop. He knew exactly what her help entailed and he wasn't interested.

_Which comes back to the question of why she was here. Clem had said he had to talk to Cutting Ball and then he was going out to score me some more blood. So unless Nancy Drew was willing to donate?_

"Okay, Spike," he heard her call out as she and Clem entered the small house. "I'm here like you wanted. What did you get yourself into now?"

"You told her I wanted her here!" Spike shouted. Seeing the near overreaction Clem futilely tried to blend into the the room's wallpaper to escape the vampire's angry indignation.

"What? You don't want my help?" Buffy asked, surprised by his response. Turning sharply her eyes fell on Clem who now doubled in his attempts to shrink just into the bedroom's corner, where Buffy had come to stand moments ago. "You told me he needed me. You said he was hurt?"

"He is!" Clem defended and gave up on hiding to reach out and flip on the bedroom's light, revealing to her just how badly off the vampire was. Spike knew he had come a long way, thanks in no small part to Clem; however when he saw the wince on his enemy's face he realized that he still had a long way to go.

"Well?" Spike eventually irked when a very awkward moment of silence had past. "Have yourself a good look then? Don't need your help, Slayer. I'll manage on my own."

The words snapped her out of her stare of disbelief. Instead a very familiar frown and tapping of a foot on bedroom carpet took its place, "Obviously," Buffy said wryly. "So what happened?" Seeing his doubtful look she sighed and rolled her eyes. "If there is something out there that can take out a century old vampire infamous for taking out slayers, then I need to know about it." A sensible reason but Spike was surprised that Clem hadn't filled her in on it already.

_What the hell had the two been chatting about all night?_

"Very well," Spike said, deciding that once her curiosity was satisfied, he'd be able to annoy her into leaving. Adjusting himself to get more comfortable, he broke into the story that he himself wasn't sure he believed. "After our lover's spat outside the furniture shop, I headed to Willy's for a pint – or twelve – and ended up in just the sort of brawl that the doc' prescribed."

"Therapy by bloodshed, how very you," Buffy remarked and displayed her second eye roll of the night.

_Like you're any different; fuckin' hypocrite._

"This one big demon, Gormtosk, was some nine feet and weighed in at about twenty stone – that's three hundred pounds for your piss poor excuse for an education. Gormtosk snuck up behind me and propped me up for the two wankers I was scrappin' with. Credit to the Snitch, he stood up for me but was in no position to throw down with a trio of roided up demons."

"Demons on steroids?" Buffy asked, perturbed at the thought. Spike shrugged.

"Might as well have been, those uppercuts hurt somethin' fierce. After much broken bones and internal bleeding, Gormtosk carried me out back and threw me to the pavement face first. Told me to leave town, never come back, and then turned to go back to drinking. But between our lover's spat from earlier and that row in the bar I wasn't in much mind to appeal for my better sense – or at least I think."

"You think?" Buffy pressed, eyes narrowing. Spike shrugged helplessly.

"My skull had just been used as a punchin' bag, Slayer. 'Sides, if yours truly is going out, then I'm going down fighting," Spike explained and watched as Buffy considered his words. Seeing she was of a like mind he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to think of the best way to put this next part. "Things get a little hazy after that. I know Gormtosk went to stake me but somehow he missed."

"He missed?" Buffy repeated, the wheels in her head turning as she digested his words. "How?"

Spike let out a huff and gestured helplessly. "It was point blank, luv. Could've dusted me with both eyes closed. Bloody missed though. Missed just right of the ticker. Can't remember much else after that. Hell, the only reason I know I didn't imagine his 'failure to stake' was because of the large hole in my chest."

"That's it?" Buffy said. "You don't remember anything else?"

_What the hell does the bitch expect?_

"I wasn't in the right mood to be playin' court reporter, Slayer. All I know is what Clem told me afterward. Willy came out just past dawn and saved me from death-by-sunshine and made a deal with Clem 'ere to put me up in his house."

"Interesting story," Buffy said after a couple moments of thought. "But ya gotta admit, Spike, that isn't it a little odd to think that a snitch like Willy would turn noble and risk his business to help a guy like you?" She was fishing, poking holes in his story that was flimsy at best, but it was all he could offer her.

"Willy was the one who found me. He was the one who discovered Gormtosk's remains. Supposedly a grisly sight. You ask about a demon strong enough to take me down? Think the better question is, what the hell is out there that can rend a powerhouse like Gormtosk limb from limb?"

"Willy said that he was helping because Spike did him a few favors," Clem added. "Tossed out some bad demons."

"You're a bouncer now?" Buffy said, surprised by this revelation.

"What?" Spike scoffed. "You think I only go to you white hats for dosh? I've done some odds jobs here and there. How else did you think I came up with the cash for your mum's window?"

"Odd jobs?" Buffy echoed. "This coming from the dead guy who claims to despise everything about an honest living? You were robbing a store six nights ago, Spike."

"A one time thing," Spike replied. "Sunnydale PD might turn a blind eye to the occult but even they aren't entirely incompetent, especially given the togs I wear. I know I happen to stand out."

"You should have come to me," Buffy said, her conviction leaving no room for argument. He argued anyway.

"What? And give those other demons more ammo to use against me? Besides you would've just ushered me along out of town, and I'm not running. Not from a mob of B-lister demons who couldn't hold a candle to a real Big Bad."

"So what? Instead you risk the lives of the people here in this neighborhood? I know I have a habit for categorizing things into the black and white, it's how I'm able to do my job. But even I can see the difference with this neighborhood. People like Clem don't deserve to be caught in the crossfire between you and a small army of demons planning the wake of William the Bloody."

"Just need a few more days is all," Spike solicited. "Then I start fightin' back."

"And leave my town in a crater? Not a chance," the Slayer ruled. "Clem," she said and turned away from Spike to address his caretaker. "Does your car out there run?"

"My car? Well sure but I don't really like the idea of driving through Sunnydale right now, especially if Spike is with me."

"You won't be alone," Buffy assured him and started to explain her plan to them. It was short and simple. She would ride shotgun with Clem as he took Spike to a motel a couple hours north and a safe distance away from the demons that were after Spike. When he was fired as her watcher, Giles had given her a credit card to use in case of emergencies. He would likely have reservations about it being used for Spike's health but the possibility of the demons of Boxley Street getting mixed up in this 'war' was too great a risk.

The vampire-shaped pain in her ass objected, of course. While Sunnydale may be the site of his greatest failures, he still made his home here. From that single perspective Buffy could sympathize but it didn't change anything. This was about doing what was necessary, and right now she was making it clear that Sunnydale was the last place he should be. With Spike in no condition to argue, the decision was made and the plan put in motion.

An hour later, the three unlikely companions, now packed tightly into Clem's small car, made their way out of Boxley. None noticed the vampire down the street who had trailed Buffy and Clem from Restfield. The vampire opened a cell phone to make a call to the others.

Their suspicions had panned out. The Slayer had led them directly to Spike.

_To Be Continued..._

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Reviews:

I think they realize how much danger he is in, they just can't bring themselves to care. I'm not disparaging the characters, it's just how it is right now. If Spike's plan with Adam had succeeded Buffy likely would have been killed. Following along chronologically, this chapter is in July. The battle with Adam's army happened at the end of May. So while Buffy and Spike are having fun, it is a very fine line they are walking.

Thank you to all who reviewed!

Appreciation:

A big special thank you goes out to the story's beta, All4Spike. A talented writer in her own right please a big welcome for her and much appreciation for her assistance.

-S


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